


Knights of Lion

by VelkynKarma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin AU, Blood, Canonical Minor Character Death, Explicit Language, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Injury, No Major Character Death, PTSD, Possible spoilers for Attack on Titan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/pseuds/VelkynKarma
Summary: The Knights of Lion are the elite among the elite, permitted to wear the noble crest of Altea over their wings of freedom. But when three of their number go missing and Wall Maria falls, so too do the Knights. If humanity is ever to secure a foothold for their survival, the team must be reformed—but only if soldiers worthy of bearing the title can be found.





	1. counter・attack-mankind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This here is an AU based off of some headcanon thoughts I wrote a while back:  
> http://velkynkarma.tumblr.com/post/152714345353/so-i-was-thinking-today
> 
> Considering the nature of SnK/AoT I'll just stress up front that **no major characters will be dying,** but there is at least 1 reference to a minor character that canonically died in VLD meeting the same fate here. If that makes you uncomfortable now would be the time to back away.
> 
> This is also for platonicweek 2.0!  
> http://platonicvldweek.tumblr.com/post/162488353859/platonicvldweek-platonicvldweek-its-me
> 
> Day 2, "New Experiences."

  
Katie joins the Military when she’s eleven.   
  
It’s one year earlier than technically permitted for cadets, but she finds that when she cuts her hair short and stands up straight no one can really tell the difference. No one really cares, either. After losing Wall Maria, the Military is desperate for any recruits it can find, and not picky enough to look too close if she says she’s twelve.   
  
Her mother isn’t entirely happy with the decision, but Katie is truthful when she explains where she’s going. After all, there’s a chance she might never come back. It’s a slim chance, one she intends to fight with everything she has, but there’s Titans out there. She has to accept it’s a possibility.   
  
“I have to go,” she tells her mother. “I have to find the answers. For both of us.”  
  
Her mother looks sad, and doesn’t say a word; just stares at Katie helplessly.   
  
“They’re never going to tell us what mission they were on,” Katie continues, trying to justify her actions. “It was always ‘classified.’ It’s always ‘there’s more important things at stake.’ I have to know. I have to _know_ what they left for. I have to find them. And I can’t do that inside these walls.”  
  
“I know,” her mother says quietly, speaking at last. “I know, Katie. I…I’m not happy about it. I can’t…I can’t stand to lose you, too.” She shakes as she draws Katie in closer, wraps her arms around the only child she has left. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you, too.” Her embrace is so tight it almost hurts. “But I…I need to know, too. I need to know why they…why…”  
  
Katie wraps her own arms around her mother in a fierce hug, and buries her head in close for just a moment, squeezing her eyes shut. Almost, this way, for just a second, she can pretend the past few months have never happened.  
  
But she can’t deny the truth. Six months ago, her father—an elite member of the Survey Corps—and her brother, a one-year veteran of the same branch, and been tasked with a mission outside Wall Maria. That in and of itself wasn’t uncommon for the Survey Corps—but it _was_ odd that they’d been sent with so few people. Scout missions typically left with most of the Survey Corps’ force. Her father and brother, however, had been accompanied only by one other soldier—the highest ranked graduate from Matt’s class, also from their branch of the Military.   
  
Her father hadn’t been able to give details. Katie had tried to wheedle a little information out of her brother, but Matt had just laughed and said, “No way, Katie! I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, though. I’ll even bring you a souvenir.”   
  
There had never been any doubt that they would return. The death toll in the Survey Corps was monumentally high, but Matt and Takashi—the other soldier chosen for the mission—were both year veterans and high ranked from their graduating class. And Katie’s father was a legend in the Survey Corps, a member for more than fifteen years. They were survivors. The best of the best. That was why they had been chosen for whatever mission they’d been sent on.  
  
They’d gone with smiles and promises of stories of the world beyond when they’d returned.  
  
They’d never come back. And a month after their disappearance, the Titans had come, and the gates of Wall Maria shattered, and death had poured inside.   
  
Katie and her mother had always lived farther into the interior, behind Wall Rose. They’d been fine, but Katie had seen the survivors swarm in, eyes haunted and ribs showing, and had been horrified at the loss all the same. The disappearance of her father and brother and the other soldier, far past the date they were supposed to return, became inconsequential to the Military in comparison to the bigger picture of housing and feeding thousands of refugees and fighting the Titans on their doorstep.   
  
But Katie doesn’t forget, and neither does her mother. They plead with the Military for answers, but they’re always turned away. Katie makes a nuisance of herself, trying to get _answers,_ and the soldiers grow angry. They have bigger things to deal with than a few missing soldiers, they insist. People are dying out there by the day, and they don’t have the manpower to survive. There are bigger things at stake.   
  
Fine, then. If they’re hurting for manpower, Katie will join them. She’ll be the best damn soldier in her class. She’ll kill every single Titan between here and Wall Maria if she has to, retake the gates herself if she must. And then she’ll go outside the walls. She’ll find the scouts, she’ll get answers.   
  
She _will_ find her family again.  
  
“I know you have to do this,” her mother whispers, holding her close. “I know you need those answers. But _please,_ Katie, be careful. Come back to me alive. I can’t stand the thought that I may have lost all of you to those _things._ ”   
  
“I will, mom,” Katie says, clinging tight. “I will. I promise. And I’ll bring them with me.”   
  
Her mother smiles even as she’s crying. “I know you will. I believe you.”   
  
Katie joins the Military under an assumed name. Much like her age, no one bothers to question whether or not “Pidge Gunderson” really exists. There’s no point in checking the registers. She’s a willing and able body, and that’s all that matters. They might have even taken her as Katie Holt, but she isn’t interested in all the attention it will bring. She’s not exactly on the Military’s good side after pestering them so much, and her father and brother are fairly well known in the organization. She doesn’t want anyone questioning her motives, or getting too close.  
  
She’s not here for friends, or for camaraderie. She’s here for Matt, and for her dad, and everyone else can get the hell out of her way.   
  
The first day is by far the worst. She’s always known Instructor Iverson was a hard-ass, but even Matt’s stories from his cadet days aren’t quiet enough to prepare her for this guy’s level of asshole-ery. The first day all the cadets are lined up on the parade grounds in formation, and Iverson systematically goes through nearly all of them, throughly humiliating or screaming at every last one of them. Several of the new cadets look ready to piss themselves while he hollers in their faces. He seems to have a knack for picking out exactly what will infuriate or frighten each person the most, and Katie can already tell she’s going to have to do her best to rein in her temper when he gets to her.   
  
Still, while he intimidates the ever-loving hell out of most of the recruits he stops at, the operative word there is ‘most.’ At row four, six rows ahead of Katie, Iverson encounters his first unusual challenge.  
  
“What do they call you, cadet?” Iverson barks.  
  
The tall recruit in front of him is built like a tank and looks impressively sturdy. He snaps into a hasty salute, and answers, “Hunk Garrett of Hofer village, sir!”  
  
“And am I not _entertaining_ enough for you, maggot?” the instructor snaps. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your wandering attention! You think a Titan’s just going to wait until you’re good and ready to focus before it eats you?”  
  
“No sir!” the cadet—Hunk—answers.  
  
“Then _what_ is demanding your attention, Cadet?”   
  
“Just wondering when lunch is, sir!” Hunk responds again. “We’ve been standing out here for a while. Do you know what’s on the menu? Will there be meat? I heard when you’re a soldier sometimes you can get meat—“  
  
Iverson looks incredulous. The eye that isn’t sealed shut by the massive Titan-gained scar goes wide, and Katie barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes. What is this recruit, stupid?   
  
“We aren’t here to feed you gourmet meals, Cadet!” Iverson roars. “You’re here to train to fight Titans or die trying and I will beat that into your head if I have to!” He points to the wide open training fields. “Get running, Cadet! Laps until the sun sets. And meals are revoked for two days— _just_ to ensure you remember what you’re here for!”  
  
Even from behind, Katie can see how horrified the cadet looks. But Iverson is unforgiving and unmovable, and after a moment Hunk swallows and jogs off for the training fields, looking miserable.  
  
Katie figures it’s just a weird outlier, but it’s barely fifteen minutes later that Iverson encounters the next problem. Row five has just done an about-face as ordered, and while Iverson prowls down the lines of row six looking for his next victim, one smart-ass in the row decides to offer the girl now facing him a sly wink and suggestive eyebrow raise. Katie only just barely sees it from her angle behind the recruit and to his left. She’s genuinely shocked one-eyed Iverson manages to spot it, but spot it he does, and he’s on the recruit like a Titan on prey.  
  
“What the hell was that, Cadet! Who in the hell do you think you are?”  
  
The recruit looks startled when caught, but hastily snaps into a smart salute. “Lance McClain of Gaia District, sir!”  
  
“And what the hell were you just doing, Cadet McClain?”  
  
Lance blinks in bewilderment for a moment, but then offers a hesitant smirk. “Team building exercise, sir! Just getting to know my fellow recruits!”  
  
“Team building my _ass_ , cadet! If you get distracted during my training because you’re thinking with the wrong head I will _personally_ throw you over the wall myself!” Iverson barks. Lance looks startled, and Iverson roars, “Go join Cadet Hunk in the training fields until sunset! Maybe the two of you idiots can keep each other out of trouble!”  
  
Lance is still wide-eyed as he takes off for the fields at a jog, and very, _very_ obviously, does not look in the direction of the girl he’d been trying to ‘get to know.’   
  
The next two rows pass without incident, thankfully, and Katie is almost sure those two had just been flukes. But at row nine, Iverson’s loud-mouthed insults and intimidation meet their match, in the form of a cadet with dark hair and a pale complexion, who practically bristles with impatience and irritation as Iverson settles in front of him.   
  
“Name, Cadet!”  
  
“Keith Kogane, sir.”   
  
“Keith Kogane of _where,_ Cadet?”  
  
“Nowhere, sir.” There’s a bite to his tone, warning and sharp.  
  
Iverson narrows his eyes, and leans close enough to be less than a centimeter from Keith’s face. He’s taller and more broadly built than the cadet is, but Keith doesn’t flinch for a second. Katie is impressed despite herself. “ _Nowhere?_ I asked you a damn _question_ , Cadet Kogane, and I expect an answer if you expect to stay here. _Where. Are. You. From. Cadet?_ ”   
  
Keith’s eyes narrow, and even a row behind him Katie can see his jaw muscles work as he clenches them tightly. After a moment, he grates out, “Keith Kogane of Arus District, _sir._ ” There is a definite bite of sarcasm with the address at the end.  
  
Katie’s eyes widen slightly. Arus District? That was where the Titans had first breached Wall Maria months ago. There’d been very few survivors from that area. She can see why Keith had answered the way he had, though—Arus had been lost completely. Anyone from there was a refugee now, if they weren’t dead.   
  
Instructor Iverson clearly recognizes the name, but there’s no pity in his expression as he gets, if possible, even more in Keith’s face. “I don’t like your tone, you little shit,” he warns. “I’ve got my damn eye on you.”  
  
“I hope it works better than the other, _sir,_ ” Keith snaps. “I’ll try to stay in your line of sight to make things easier.”  
  
Katie nearly chokes. Does this kid have a _death wish?_   
  
Iverson’s eye blazes with fury. “You’ll learn some damn respect, cadet,” he snarls, “or I will _make_ you. Five days of meal privileges are revoked, and you’ll be running with your new best friends until the moon’s out. Get moving, Cadet! _Now!_ ”  
  
Keith is rigid, and for a moment Katie is sure he’s either going to strike the instructor, or refuse to move at all. Iverson seems to recognize it, and adds warningly, “I’ll remind you, _cadet_ , that _I’m_ the one that makes or breaks you here. The Military has no place for insurrection. If you can’t follow a damn order I will drop you day one and send you back to the fields of _nowhere._ Now _move out_.”  
  
Keith takes a deep breath, and seems to be concentrating hard. But then he finally says “Yes sir!” with the barest edge of respect, and turns to jog off towards the fields with the other two idiots.  
  
The rest of the line passes without incident, and Iverson gradually makes his way down Katie’s own row next. Then he’s in front of her, and suddenly he looks a lot bigger and more intimidating than he has so far.  
  
“Name, runt!” he barks, glaring down at her.  
  
“Pidge Gunderson of Olkari Village, sir!” she answers, saluting smartly. She doesn’t live anywhere near Olkari, which is about the most opposite one can get on the map compared to her home, but hopefully no one will question it.  
  
Fortunately, Iverson doesn’t zero in on her location so much as her name. “Who the hell gave you an absolutely ridiculous name like _that_ , Cadet Gunderson?” he yells.  
  
“My mother, sir!” Katie answers, which is not actually a lie. Her mother had come up with the alias, partly as a joke. _You’ll have to tell me how many people fall for it, Katie,_ she’d said with a laugh.  
  
Iverson snorts. “And why are you here, runt?”   
  
“To get strong enough to explore beyond the walls, sir!” she says. “I am to see the world outside by joining the Survey Corps!” Not entirely accurate, but not fully a lie, either.  
  
If they hadn’t been in formation, Katie was sure that would have drawn a few stares. She has a feeling she’ll be cornered about it later in the barracks. Iverson, however, is not impressed. “The Survey Corps, huh?” he growls. “Got a death wish, Cadet Gunderson?”  
  
“No sir!”  
  
“Then you’d best think long and hard about your choice, runt,” Iverson snaps. “The Survey Corps are a noble branch, but if a naive brat like you goes outside the walls you’ll be Titan fodder in no time. Lot of good men and women lost their lives because of adventurous little shits like you.”   
  
Katie’s eye twitches in anger. She knows Iverson’s just trying to rile her, and he hasn’t insulted the Survey Corps or her father or brother or any of their fellow soldiers, but she can’t help but be pissed on their behalf all the same. Before she can stop herself, she snaps, “And what would you know of it, sir? Ever been outside the walls yourself?”  
  
Iverson’s nostrils flare, and his remaining eye burns angrily. Too late, Katie realizes she’s screwed up big time, and _very_ belatedly remembers Matt complaining to his father during his own cadet training. _Don’t be too harsh on Iverson_ , her father had answered. _He was a member of the Survey Corps, once. He fought hard, but the job broke him. He retired to training after a nasty head injury, but trust me, while he can be a real ass, he’s doing everything he can to make sure you survive. Take it seriously._  
  
Oops. She never _had_ been good at reining in her temper when things were important to her.  
  
“Start running, Gunderson!” Iverson snarls. “You even slow down _once_ before sunset and I’ll boot you from training so fast your damn _head_ will come off! You want to see the world outside so bad, you’d best learn to start running as hard as you fucking can!”   
  
Katie bristles, and almost considers fighting back. But she remembers Iverson’s words to Keith. She can’t afford to be dropped on day one, not if she’s going to find her family. So she grudgingly jogs off for the training fields.  
  
“What’re you in for?” Lance asks brightly, as she reaches the outer edge of the fields to start circling endlessly. He and Hunk are running more or less side by side, and currently don’t seem quite tired enough yet to not chat while being punished.   
  
“Iverson’s a dick,” Katie grumbles. They both laugh.  
  
“I’m—“  
  
“Lance McClain, Hunk Garrett,” she interrupts. “Yeah. I know. Front row seats to the whole thing.” And when they look at her expectantly, she adds, “Pidge Gunderson.”  
  
Keith jogs past, lapping them once as he runs on ahead. The guy doesn’t seem interested in conversation—there’s a burning intensity in his eyes, and he barely seems to register the rest of them as he blows past. Lance grumbles a little as he runs by.  
  
“I can’t believe he revoked meal privileges,” Hunk moans. “Two days without meals! What am I gonna do? I’ll starve!”  
  
“That’s nothing,” Lance grouses. “I’m sweating like a…like a…like something that sweats a lot. Ugh. I’m gonna reek by the time this is all done.”   
  
Katie wonders if she’s honest to God hearing these idiots right. “Could be worse,” she offers after a moment. “Keith lost five days of meal privileges.” She jerks her head in Keith’s direction; he’s already halfway around the track again.  
  
 _“Five?”_ Hunk says. “He’s gonna _die._ ”  
  
“The hell’d _he_ do to piss Iverson off?” Lance asks, incredulous. Katie explains briefly, and Lance rolls his eyes. “What an arrogant bastard. We even offered to let him run with us for company but he just keeps going on his own. Hey!” he adds, yelling louder, as Keith laps them again. “The hell you got to prove, anyway? You think running _faster_ will let you kiss ass even better?”  
  
Keith keeps going, with no indication that he even heard Lance.  
  
“Don’t you ignore me, mullet!” Lance scowls. “What, do you think you’re better than me ‘cause you can run faster? I could keep up with you if I even cared!” Keith’s snort of derision is faint from distance, but just barely audible, and Lance throws his hands up in the air. “Okay, that’s _it!_ I have had it from you—get back here, you jerk!”   
  
He takes off in a spray of dust, increasing his speed to catch up to Keith. Keith, apparently not one to turn down a challenge when so directly confronted, also speeds up. In a moment the two idiots are racing each other around the field, hollering obscenities and smart-ass remarks at one another.  
  
“I guess that’s it for them,” Hunk says with a sigh. “So, hey—where you from? Are you—“  
  
“Look,” Katie interrupts, “No offense at all, but I’m really not here to make friends. I’ve just gotta train up enough to get outside, and that’s all I’m here for.”  
  
Hunk’s eyes widen. _“Outside?”_ he asks, eyes wide with horror. “Like the Survey Corps? _Wow,_ that’s intense. I’m going for Garrison,” he adds, answering a question Katie was never actually interested in asking—this guy cannot take a hint, apparently. “My village is from inside Wall Maria, and…well we weren’t at Arus, but we saw some Titans from a distance when we got the evacuation orders, and…that was definitely enough for me. I don’t ever want to see another one again. I don’t think I can make the top ten ranks for the Military Police, but Garrison can’t be so bad, right? I hear you get to eat decent, at least.” As if on cue, his stomach grumbles.  
  
Despite her earlier protests, Katie can’t help but imagine where Hunk came from. She doesn’t know where Hofer Village is, but she does remember seeing hordes of hungry, frightened, wounded refugees swarming into her home town when Wall Maria had fallen. Hunk might have been among them, and…well, maybe wanting to run so badly is a little cowardly, but she supposes in that situation she can’t exactly blame him. She can’t really imagine what it must be like, to be homeless, frightened, hungry, and to have no idea where you’re going, no sense of stability.   
  
She sighs. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything,” she says, “But…ugh. Tonight I’ll sneak into the kitchens and get you something to eat, after light’s out. It’s not a friend thing,” she adds warningly. “It’s just…I need practice sneaking around better, okay? I’m decent at it, but I need to hone my skills more. I’m going for one of the top ranks.”  
  
Hunk gives her a wide-eyed smile. “You will? Pidge, you’re _amazing_.” He draws her up into an incredibly strong bear hug that could probably crack a Titan’s spine, no problem.   
  
Katie winces when her feet finally hit the ground again. She can’t believe how crazy these idiots are. They’re so full of issues they’re not even going to last a week.  
  
The training is easy after that—to her, at least. She’s used her brother’s maneuver gear in the past, under Matt’s watchful eye, and already knows how to balance and use the triggers and do basic drills, at least. She has to dial it back a notch under the watchful eyes of Iverson, enough to look naturally gifted without making it seem like she’s used it before. And she has to be very careful to watch her mouth around him in the future, so she doesn’t stay on his shit list. But even so, it comes easy to her, and she scoffs internally at all the dropouts that steadily fall out of the class over the course of the next several months.   
  
But there are a few stand-out notables that do survive, and are nearly as skilled as her in their own ways—many of them unexpected surprises.   
  
It turns out troublemaker Keith is unquestionably a genius when it comes to maneuver gear and virtually all forms of combat. Katie—no, _Pidge_ , she’s Pidge now—fully intends to fight for the number one ranking spot in her class, but after only a few months she has to concede Keith is more than likely to steal it from her. He’s too good with a blade, too good in hand to hand, too good at knowing exactly when to twist and turn, when to fly, when to ease up on the gas and when to blast it for everything he’s got. He’s a natural, and his instincts are beyond anything even Pidge can replicate. Even Iverson’s intimidation techniques start to be worthless when the instructors eventually realizes Keith’s too valuable a soldier to threaten with being thrown out. Maybe the only place she can beat him is in team exercises—he’s terrible at working with others, rushing off to handle things on his own without thinking of the rest of the team, and when they’re graded as a whole he barely manages to break even.   
  
She understands that, though, in a way. Keith keeps to himself. He has reasons for being here that don’t coincide with anyone else’s, and he’s not here to make friends. There’s a shadow in his eyes that tells Pidge he’s seen things others here haven’t—and since he’s from Arus, that’s no surprise. Pidge gets that. It’s the reason she’s there, too. So while he frustrates her, she also gets him, and leaves him be.   
  
The others are… _less_ relatable. Lance is a loud-mouthed and obnoxious cadet that flirts with all the girls (he’d tried it with her—she’d kicked him in the shins), and he’s forever going on about how he’ll join the Military Police. He’s not here for a greater purpose, and he’s never seen a Titan. He’s lived safely in the interior all his life, just like Pidge, but there isn’t anyone outside waiting for him. Pidge finds him a little irritating, but for all that he _is_ actually decent in training. His efforts in the classroom are abysmal, but in the field he really shines. He doesn’t have Keith’s genius—not for lack of trying, and he’s _always_ doing his best to try and one-up Keith’s records ever since that first day of laps. But he’s incredibly adaptable in their training exercises, able to adjust at a moment’s notice to support or take point in Titan kill exercises, to change tack in combat missions, or to switch to forms of stealth or strategy. And although virtually useless against Titans, he’s probably the best shot in the entire class with a rifle—a fact he insists will make him an _excellent_ member of the Military Police, who favor firearms more than maneuver gear.   
  
Hunk quickly becomes Lance’s best friend, despite them hailing from two completely different areas in the kingdom. To this day Pidge has never quite been able to understand what drove Hunk to join the Military after his stories about fleeing Wall Maria, but she suspects it has something to do with stability. There’s not much of a chance at a life as a refugee—there’s no place to put them, not enough food to feed them, and no opportunities for work behind the over-crowed Wall Rose. The Military might provide at least some of that. Pidge still thinks it’s a little cowardly to flee so easily, but considering what Hunk’s seen and lived through, she supposes she can’t judge.  
  
And while Hunk doesn’t particularly excel in using the maneuver gear—which makes him motion sick when he uses it too long, especially when it comes to the necessary flips and spins needed to fight properly—he shines in other areas. His academic skills in the classroom rival Pidge’s own. More than that, while _using_ maneuver gear isn’t his strong suit, _manipulating_ it is—Hunk has an incredible knack for fixing and improving on the gear in shockingly little time. He’s found ways already to reduce the gas needed, or fix finicky cables and anchors in a way that will doubtless save dozens of lives in the field. He tinkers in his spare time, when he’s nervous or bored, and already he has ideas for improvements to the Military’s equipment. Pidge hopes if he does get his Garrison position, he’s recognized for his brain. He could go far in the Military based on his schematics and engineering skills, if he can just get his foot in the door.  
  
There are others in their class, of course, but they seem unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So many of them drop out she doesn’t even bother to learn most of their names. She’s aware of her biggest rivals for the top ten highest ranked students, but mostly they don’t matter. Matt and her father do.   
  
And yet no matter what she does, she can’t help but notice those three specifically. Keith, Lance and Hunk are always stand out, ever since that first day. She’d never expected any of them to last more than a week. But she’s paired with them so often in exercises, and they’re so full of energy in the mess hall and during their free hours, that she can’t help but notice them. And as the months pass, the more and more she has to interact with them, the more she almost— _almost_ —could swear she could call them friends.   
  
Lance stops flirting with her, and she starts to recognize his obnoxious tendencies as almost comfortingly familiar, like a big brother’s, and less like a loud-mouthed entitled brat’s. Hunk, for all his size, is shockingly good at sneaking food from the kitchen after she teaches him how, and often shares extra rations with them. Keith is quiet, mostly, but usually the first to tell other classmates to back off and leave her alone when they start asking uncomfortable questions she doesn’t want to answer. And she finds that she sort of likes all of them.  
  
She hadn’t meant for that to happen. But she supposes she never really had a say in the matter.  
  
They help each other get stronger in training, first with little offhand tips and tricks, and gradually with more in depth forms of training. Pidge tutors Lance through some of the more academic parts of their training, and he helps her improve her handling with firearms. Hunk teaches her some unconventional fixes for the maneuver gear, and she shows him a few tricks for maneuvering with it in mid-air that might make him less airsick. Pidge covers for Keith when he sneaks out or makes a few of his punishable transgressions disappear from the records, and he teaches her some incredibly advanced forms of maneuvering with the gear that the instructors never go into.   
  
As their third year draws to a close, Pidge realizes with a start that for the past three years of training with the cadets, these guys have been the closest thing to family she’s had. She won’t give up on her dream to find her _real_ family—but it occurs to her that it’s really going to hurt to say goodbye to these guys on graduation day.   
  
She hopes they all survive, even despite some of their annoyances. She hopes Lance gets into the Military Police like he wants, even if his skills will probably be wasted there. She hopes Hunk gets the stability he wants and a safe place inside the walls. She hopes Keith finds whatever it is _he’s_ searching for, too, though even three years later she knows precious little about him.   
  
She hopes they can all do right by themselves. And she’ll do what’s right by her, too. Graduation day is coming closer, and she fully intends to follow in her father’s footsteps, and choose the Survey Corps. She’ll go out into the world beyond the walls. She’ll find her dad. She’ll find Matt. She’ll find the other soldier too, Takashi Shirogane, if she can.   
  
And she’ll bring them home, just like she promised.


	2. The Reluctant Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic Week 2.0 Day 3: Separation

Once, Lance entertained grand visions of heroics in the Military. He’d dash across the rooftops, slaughter dozens of Titans with ease as he danced through the air with his gear, and single-handedly save Wall Maria, to the joy of thousands of relieved refugees. He’d run outside the walls and eradicate the Titans there, throw open the gates, and let everyone fly into the world beyond to explore and live in peace.  
  
Those visions died on the top of Wall Rose, the day his class of cadets was taken to the top to see their first glimpse of Titans. He’d watched them claw hungrily at the walls and smash through the houses of the lost districts, and swore then and there _never_ to dream those dreams again.   
  
Heroics didn’t exist. But monsters definitely did.  
  
After that, Lance dedicates himself day in and day out to being the absolute best of the cadets of his class. Only the top ten highest ranked students in each class could ever have the option of joining the Military Police, and Lance intends to be one of them. It’s the best option all around. The safest, as far away from the Titans as he can possibly get, in the center of the kingdom. And with a decent paycheck to match, as a reward for his excellent skills—money he can send back home to his family, or use to buy decent food to fill his mother’s table and keep his siblings from starving.   
  
It’s not cowardice, he tells himself. It’s _smart._ Dreams are nice, but people need to live, and they need to eat. His family comes first. They have to. It’s not cowardice.   
  
(He doesn’t quite believe it).  
  
(But maybe, if he says it hard enough and long enough, he will).  
  
Lance works hard in his class. He struggles a little in the classroom, but on the field he pushes himself hard to be the best. Only the best can reach the Military Police. He’s unarguably the best _shot_ , excelling with most firearm training, but that’s hardly going to be enough to win. He pushes himself hard in maneuver gear training, in Titan kill exercises, in hand to hand combat, trying to be number one. But he’s never _quite_ there. Other students have the most maneuverability, or the most speed, or the most strength, or the most skill with a blade. Other students are the smartest, or the cleverest, or cut the deepest, or are best able to figure out how to turn a situation to their advantage.   
  
Lance is good at working with different individuals to compliment their skills, and he’s good at adapting to others to get a job done. But that doesn’t make you the _best_ at anything, and it’s not enough to earn you rank. He just makes _other_ people better, not himself. Despite all his struggles, the closer they get to finishing their third year, the more scared he gets he’s not going to make the cut.   
  
Then he lucks out. Keith, top-of-the-class, favored _Keith_ , finally screws up one too many times. _Discipline issues_ , the superiors say. Keith’s a hot head, too used to arguing back against Iverson and the other instructors, too ready to tell them what he thinks of them. The guy doesn’t know when to hold his damn tongue, but it ends up working in Lance’s favor after all. They don’t dishonorably discharge Keith—they can’t afford to. He’s too good in their class, a genius in all things Titan-fighting, and a soldier they can’t afford to lose. But they strip him of his first-rank position and remove his eligibility for Military Police, and that bumps everyone else’s rank up by one as a result.  
  
And Lance, rank eleven, slides his way just barely into the top.  
  
He doesn’t feel too bad for Keith. Keith’s a hot head, and they’d given him more than enough warning, even _with_ Pidge messing with the records (and yeah, Lance _does_ know about that, even if he pretends not to). Besides, Keith doesn’t seem all that shook up about it. He never talks about what branch he’s choosing when he graduates, but Lance figures it’s never been Military Police, or Keith wouldn’t have been dumb enough to keep picking fights with the instructors.  
  
More importantly, Lance is in the top ten. All his hard work and efforts have _finally_ gotten him there. He’s _done_ it. Military Police, save a place for Lance—graduation’s in just a few weeks, and as long as he keeps it up, there’s no way he’ll lose his coveted place. Everything’s coming up Lance. It’s perfect, and he can’t wait until the day he can write home and tell them about his official new rank.   
  
And then, just when everything is going his way, the Titans come again.   
  
They get the alert in mid day, in the middle of hand to hand training. Titans have breached the walls again, this time breaking through one of the gates in the outlier district of Balmera. The gate is shattered; the Titans are pouring in. The Military is already doing what it can to evacuate the citizens, but it’s all hands on deck. The Garrison is out in force, and the newest cadets, set to graduate in just a week, are recruited under their command to help.  
  
Lance has never been more terrified in his life.   
  
It’s not _fair,_ he thinks, even as the cadets are split into different squadrons. He’d _made_ it. In just a week he was supposed to go to the Military Police and be as far away from these monsters as it was possible to get. If they’d just waited one damn week he’d have been _safe._   
  
But it doesn’t matter now. They’re all heading out into the city of Balmera to be slaughtered, one way or another. It’s only a matter of time.   
  
Lance wishes he’d never joined the Military. More than anything, at that moment, he wants so badly to be home with his mother and father and his siblings. Screw all those stories of just making them proud. He just wants to _live._   
  
The cadets are split up and sent to the middle portion of the city, to relay messages and supplies and provide support where necessary. Lance’s squadron doesn’t even have any of the few classmates he’s come to really know and trust. Pidge and Hunk are in other squadrons. Hell, he’d even take _Keith,_ much as that guy annoys him, but Keith’s been snagged for the elite team guarding the evacuating civilians. Lance is on his own, more or less. These cadets are also friends of his, but he’s never bonded with any of them quite as strongly as the others.  
  
God, he hopes they live through this.  
  
They don’t.   
  
His squadron doesn’t, at least. They’re trying to deliver orders to the elite line defending the civilians when the Titans come out of nowhere. Two of his team are snatched out of midair by hungry mouths. A third is slapped out of midair to the rooftops, and when he tries to rise the Titan snatches him up and twists his arms out of his sockets before stuffing him into its mouth. A fourth tries to dodge in midair and her line snaps. She smashes into the ground with a broken leg, and can’t run when the Titan reaches for her.   
  
Lance will never stop hearing her final screams.   
  
Lance lives. He lives because, when he realizes the rest of his team has been snatched up and broken and eaten, he runs. He runs like a goddamned fucking _coward_ because he sees those monsters up close and he just _can’t_ face it down, not seeing what they’ve done to the others.  
  
He tries to tell himself it’s a tactical retreat. He still has orders to deliver. He _has_ to leave. There’s nothing he could have done. They were dead, dead, dead the moment the Titans came. Leaving was better than being eaten. Better one escape than none at all.  
  
But it’s a fucking lie, and he knows it. He left because he was a coward. He left because he was weak. He ran because it’s all he’s good for. It’s all he’d ever planned to do from the beginning.   
  
He hates himself for it.   
  
He hides on a rooftop alone for a time, shaking and terrified and full of self-loathing. He doesn’t see any others. He’s not sure what’s happened to most of the Military at this point, and the Titans are concentrated towards the middle, where most of the people are. His orders had been to request troops for the first line of defense, so he knows it’s not going well. It’s got to be going worse now. He’s not sure doing his job will even matter at this point.   
  
What will happen when he gets eaten? Will they ever find his body? Will his parents ever know? How will they tell his siblings? Oh God. He doesn’t want it to end like _this._ He wants to just go _home_. He wants his mother and her big hugs, he wants his bratty little siblings that he loves to death, he wants his father to welcome him home with a big smile and open arms. He never signed up for this bullshit. He wants to go _home._ He doesn’t want to die.   
  
And he just can’t make himself _move_. He’s safe here. Nobody and nothing knows he’s here. He can curl up in the shadow of an old chimney, wrap his arms around his knees, not be eaten, and listen to Florona screaming over and over in his head because he was too much of a goddamn coward to try and save her or anyone else.   
  
It takes him a while to realize some of that screaming isn’t in his head—it’s _real._   
  
His head jerks up in surprise. That voice is too young to be out here. It sounds like a kid, younger than even him, and there are other voices besides. He drags himself to his feet and stumbles along the rooftops towards the source of the noise, with a sort of horrified fascination, and a terrible need to know.   
  
It’s a family. A mother and three kids, none of whom are older than ten. The youngest is sobbing and screaming; the mother is desperately hugging him close and trying to calm him while crying out for help herself.  
  
The ten-meter class Titan approaching them is no doubt why.  
  
It’s a disgusting thing, hunched and misshapen with a distended belly and a too large mouth. There’s already drool and blood dribbling from its mouth as it stomps placidly towards its next victims. The family has been sighted, and there’s no way even a perfectly fit human can escape a hunting Titan, much less a mother and three young children.   
  
_“Please,”_ the mother begs, desperate for someone to save them. She hasn’t spotted Lance. She’s calling for a miracle. “Please, someone—my children— _please_ —“   
  
And for a terrifying second, Lance swears that’s _his_ mother down there, and his own siblings, cornered by a hunting Titan. He can see his youngest brother clinging to his mother’s blouse, see one of his middle sisters standing shakily between the Titan and his youngest sister. He can see their fear and pleading etched on their faces clear as day.   
  
They aren’t really there, of course. His family is safe back in the Gaia district, where he’d left them three years ago. They’re not remotely close to a Titan and God willing, never will be.   
  
But they’re _someone’s_ family. Maybe another soldier’s, or another cadet’s. Maybe someone who’s been separated from them. Maybe someone who’s already died. In the end, it doesn’t matter.  
  
It doesn’t matter, because they’re not his, but he can’t stand here and watch them die. Not again. Never again. He’d never forgive himself.   
  
And he’s so damn tired of _running._  
  
He snaps his blades onto the triggers of his maneuver gear, and charges.  
  
The Titan turns. It’s like by some instinct it knows Lance is there, and it lashes out with a hand, reaching out to snatch at its newest meal.   
  
Lance is _terrified._ Part of him still wants to run. He’s better when he works _with_ people at this kind of thing in the drills, and a real Titan is worse.   
  
_You’re one of the top fucking ten, you idiot,_ he snarls at himself. _Do something on your own for once in your goddamn life and make a real difference!_  
  
He fires one of his lines, and just barely manages to secure it to the far wall of a house and drag himself out of the way. The hand misses him by barely a meter. He can feel the heat of the creature’s skin as he passes it.   
  
It tries to turn after him. He twists in midair, fires off a new grapple, and realigns. He just needs one shot. One shot to get behind it. Just one—  
  
There!  
  
It turns to try and snatch at him again, and in a split second he has a shot. He twists his hips in midair and manages to launch one of his anchors into the side of the thing’s neck. Its turn gives him momentum, and he toggles the triggers to drag himself in fast. Fast, fast, _fast_ , he has to be quick enough before it can reach for him and—  
  
Its fingers miss him by centimeters, and he passes over its shoulder to its neck. With a scream, he digs the blades deep into the nape, as hard as he can, with everything he has, as he swings around behind it.   
  
The Titan howls. Steam billows everywhere. Lance’s line disengages suddenly as the anchor loses its grip, and he nearly goes flying into the nearest wall. He rights himself at the last moment, and fires off the other grapple, hanging sideways from the wall like he’s belaying instead.  
  
The Titan teeters once, and collapses in the street, dead and silent. Even as he watches, its skin begins to dissolve into a cloud of steam, and its bones begin to crumble into dust.  
  
 _I did it,_ he realizes, with a numb sort of surprise. He’s panting hard, and shaking, even though the whole thing took less than thirty seconds. _I didn’t run. killed it. By myself. I really did it._  
  
“Thank you!”   
  
Lance jerks his head around as the mother and children swarm towards him, teary-eyed and grateful. He disengages from the house and drops down to their level, sheathing his blades, and they crowd around him.   
  
“Thank you, soldier! My children—you saved them—oh God, thank you, _thank you_ —“  
  
Three years ago, Lance would have been delighted with the praise. He’d have struck a heroic pose, and he’d have been full of grand words for them. Now, he’s not so naive. Heroes don’t exist, not like that, and there’s nothing grand about him or exceptional about his actions. But soldiers do exist, and maybe he can still make a difference that way, at least.  
  
“Let’s get you back with the other refugees,” he says, pushing them gently ahead. “I’ll stay with you until you get there.”   
  
He does, a guardian following along on the rooftops, and they do make it safely to the gates. He sees them through, the mother eternally grateful, the children wide-eyed and in awe of him. He can still see all of his squadron dead, and he can still hear their final screams—but he also burns the grateful, hopeful expressions in this family’s faces into his memory too.   
  
This is what’s most important. _This_ is what matters. The front line is terrifying, but he’d managed to pluck just a tiny bit of life out of all the decay. He’d made a difference to _someone_ —to that family, and to whoever is still waiting for them.   
  
He has to hold on to that feeling of doing what’s right. Of making the tiniest bit of difference. Of keeping those _things_ as far away from his family, and others like it, as possible, through his own strength if necessary.  
  
And he won’t find that in Sina.   
  
The evacuation is a success. The civilians escape, at the cost of far too many soldiers, but Wall Rose holds. A week later, Lance’s graduating class is half again its original size, a mark of just how many cadets had been lost. His friends, at least, have all survived, thank God—Keith and Pidge and Hunk are all still there, all in one piece, alongside the last surviving cadets. But the remainder of his class all have a dark shadow in their eyes that speaks of horrors seen and experienced that will never be forgotten. Theirs is a trial of fire, and they’ve all succeeded, but the cost has been immeasurable.   
  
Still, even despite that, it’s without hesitation that Lance swears his allegiance to the wings of freedom, and offers Lord Alfor of the Survey Corps his service. He’s terrified beyond imagining when he does, and his fist in its salute trembles violently as he stands before Commander Alfor and Squad Leader Allura. But he doesn’t regret it.  
  
It’s terrifying. It’s foolish. It will probably get him killed. But he’s so tired of _running._ And it feels _right,_ too.


	3. attack ON titan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Platonic Week 2.0 Day 4: Exploration!

Hunk’s first exploratory mission with the Survey Corps outside even Wall Maria is, frankly, terrifying.  
  
He’s still not entirely sure why he even picked the Survey Corps. He’d known from the beginning he’d never get one of the top ten ranks, but even so, he’d planned on the Garrison since day one. Any way he looks at it, his choice had been a completely and utterly stupid one.  
  
But something about the Battle of Balmera had _changed_ him inside. He’d witnessed countless terrifying atrocities, but he’d also realized he and his fellow soldiers were the only ones who could really make a difference. This was what being a soldier of the Military was really all about—not a stable job, not lounging on the walls, not guaranteed meals, even if all those things _were_ nice. It was about protecting people. It was about making a difference. And maybe, it could be about freeing the whole world of the threat of the Titans, and making it safe again. So kids could go outside and play without fear of monsters. So parents could life a life where their every waking hour wasn’t devoted to trying to find ways to keep their children from starving.  
  
He hadn’t been the only one to feel that way. He’d talked it over with Lance, the night in the barracks after the battle. Lance had felt the same. He’d _seen_ things out there, been forced to look at the deepest, darkest part of himself and see how it fit in the world, and then try to find a way to overcome it. This was his answer. And Hunk gets that. He’d felt the same. And it feels a lot better to know he’s not alone, and maybe he’s not even crazy.  
  
He’s not even surprised to find Pidge standing next to him that night, when they finally choose their branch; she’d made it clear years ago this was her goal from the beginning. Somehow, Keith being beside them doesn’t surprise Hunk much at all, either. Keith’s always been quiet about his goals, but Hunk could never see him sitting wall duty for Garrison when he’s the best fighter Hunk’s ever seen.  
  
So they join the Survey Corps together. Hunk cries when he stands in front of Commander Alfor and salutes, because it’s _scary,_ but the Survey Corps are the only ones that he thinks can ultimately make a difference. They’re the innovators, the ones trying to learn about the enemy, the ones most skilled at wiping out Titans. Most of the veteran soldiers are practically _legends_ for their high kill counts, and for the things they’ve discovered that have ultimately taught people how to get better at surviving. Hunk’s not so great in the Titan-killing department, but he knows he’s good with maneuver gear, and maybe he can collaborate with them in ways that will increase their chances even further.   
  
They’re good ideas. They’re good reasons. But even so, the first time they go beyond the walls, Hunk almost regrets his choice.  
  
The Survey Corps’ current goal is to build a supply route back to the fallen Arus district, with the goal of securing a safe pathway so they can one day retake Wall Maria. But sometimes, like now, they also take exploratory missions outside even Wall Maria, in order to survey the lay of the land and the dangers even beyond it. Commander Alfor says they can’t be caught unawares again—this time, the Survey Corps will provide advance warning, before any more districts can fall.  
  
Cities and towns Hunk’s familiar with by now, but once they get outside of fallen Balmera, it’s all open space, just like he used to live in three years ago. Once they have room to move, it’s not as safe to keep all the horses and men bunched up together—that many people so close will draw Titans like wolves to meat. So they use Lord Alfor’s long-range scouting formation to travel.   
  
They’ve drilled it visually on maps back inside the walls, but actually doing it in real life is another thing entirely. The entire scouting party, at least a hundred members of the Survey Corps, spread out over a vast distance on horseback. The outer edges of the formation are responsible for searching out Titans, and relaying their positions with color coordinated flares. Commander Alfor is at the center, and uses those signals to direct the full formation, with the goal of avoiding as many Titans as possible.  
  
Avoiding is good. Hunk totally agrees with that. Out in the open on flat terrain, maneuver gear isn’t much use. There’s nothing to grapple on, and Titans still have the advantage of height and speed.   
  
Even better, Hunk is stationed in the relay part of the formation—Commander Alfor’s put all the rookies in the middle intentionally for their first foray out into the world beyond. His job is really just to take whatever flare signals he sees and repeat them, passing the message inward to the Commander.  
  
He even gets to be near the others. Lance, Pidge and Keith are all within shouting distance, spread out to some degree for maneuverability but still able to see each other. Keith is farther ahead of them in the next row, green cloak with the wings of freedom streaming out behind him as he rides hard at the front of their little formation. Pidge is also in the row ahead, but more to Hunk’s left. Lance is in Hunk’s own row, riding at the same level to the right. All of them look determined, if a little uneasy. Hunk couldn’t be luckier to have the cadets he trusts most near him for this first _absolutely terrifying_ rush into the world beyond.   
  
_Not cadets anymore,_ he reminds himself. _Soldiers. We’re all scouts now._ He glances down at the wings of freedom he knows are stamped over his own heart, even if he can’t see them under his cloak. _We all did this. We all chose this._  
  
 _Now let’s see if we can make anything of it, or if we’re all just crazy._   
  
There’s no real time to joke or lighten the mood, as much as Hunk would like to. They might only be in the relay rows, but it’s still important to keep an eye out for Titans. It’s always possible for one to sneak in, or have already been there and been missed by other eyes. He feels shaky as he rides, glancing around nervously at each movement he spots and every bird sent flying skyward. He twitches at every noise or glimmer of flares he spots in the air. The walls are already so far behind him. Why had he ever chosen this?  
  
 _Because it’s progress,_ he reminds himself. _Because it’s scary as hell, but it’s the only way to free people. Because the people inside those walls are so used to living this way they don’t even know what freedom really_ is _anymore._  
  
“What the hell is that?” Keith calls suddenly, over his shoulder. He gestures to their left, at a small fringe of trees in the distance and an open expanse of land.   
  
Lance adjusts his horse a little to draw closer, squinting in the distance. “Is that a person?” he asks after a moment.  
  
Hunk squints, but he can’t quite make it out himself. There’s movement in the distance, but it could be an animal just as easily as a person.  
  
“Is that one of the recon team?” Pidge yells back to them. It’s hard to see her eyes in the glint of the strapped-on glasses in the morning sun, but Hunk can make out her frown. “Why aren’t they on horseback? Did they get dismounted?”  
  
Keith wordlessly adjusts his direction to draw a little closer to see. Pidge and Lance follow him, equally curious. Hunk grimaces and glances over to the right, where the rest of the formation is barely visible in the distance as dots. They’re not supposed to leave formation, they could screw up the whole deal…but then again, if one of the recon team’s been dismounted, the whole deal is _already_ screwed, isn’t it? They need those guys for scouting. Hunk moans a little, but readjusts his own horse’s direction to loop out wider after the other two.  
  
“That’s definitely a person,” Lance agrees, once they’re a little closer. Hunk can sort of barely see them too. “They’re running towards us, I think? It must be one of the recon guys, but I don’t recognize that guy. He’s not wearing the cloak…”  
  
“Something about this is weird,” Pidge says slowly. “If that’s not a recon guy, who’s out here in the middle of nowhere? We’re outside the walls. There shouldn’t be people out here—“  
  
“Head’s up!” Lance hollers suddenly. “Titans!”  
  
He’s not wrong. Even as Hunk watches, three Titans burst from the tree line. At this distance, it looks like two twelve-meters and a ten. Even worse, they’re _inside_ the formation. Titans aren’t supposed to get that far—the recon scouts should have warned them. They’re all hot on the heels of the runner, lumbering after him relentlessly, thirsty for blood. Whoever it is, it’s clear he’s in trouble.  
  
At the same time, there’s a strangled sounding noise from Keith, and he kicks his horse into a full gallop, heading straight for the runner.  
  
“Wait!” Hunk yells, frantic. “We’ve gotta signal! We’re supposed to stay with the group in formation! Keith, where are you going?”  
  
“That’s Shiro!” Keith hollers over his shoulder. He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he gets faster.  
  
Beside him, Lance’s eyes widen. “ _The_ Shiro?” he yells back. His voice is almost reverent. “Takashi Shirogane? _That_ Shiro?”  
  
“Yes!” Keith yells. Already Hunk can barely hear him, he’s outstripped them considerably. But at the affirmation, Pidge’s eyes widen, and she kicks her own horse into a gallop after Keith.   
  
“I don’t believe it!” Lance says. There’s something almost hopeful in his eyes, and a weak, shaky grin grows on his face. “Hunk, c’mon, we’ve gotta hurry and get to him before the Titans do!” And he spurs his own horse on faster, breaking away from the formation completely to charge after Keith and Pidge.  
  
“Wh—wait!” Against his better judgement, Hunk spurs his own horse to gallop after them. “Lance! Hold up! Who is this Shiro guy? Why’s he so important?”  
  
“You never heard the stories?” Lance asks, giving Hunk a startled look. “Shiro’s a _legend_. Best in his class, graduated the year before we enlisted. Top rank, but the guy picks the Survey Corps. People were blown away. They figured he was throwing away his life. But he _wasn’t._ He was _incredible_. His first ever Titan kill was an Abberant and he took it down _solo._ ” Hunk can practically hear the hero worship in his voice. “Saved four other guys. His kill count’s higher than most vets. Corporal Holt recruited him to the Knights of Lion within months of joining.”  
  
Hunk whistles despite himself. The Knights of Lion—the name commonly used for the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad. They were the elite amongst the elite, permitted to bear Commander Alfor’s house crest over the wings of freedom. For a rookie to be a part of the team so early is practically unheard of.  
  
“So how come we didn’t meet this guy when we joined?” Hunk asks. As he rides, he struggles to pull out his flare gun, and the red smoke needed to indicate Titans. The recon team hasn’t signaled it, it’s up to them. Getting the gun loaded is difficult with his hands shaking—this is _insane_ , they’re rookies, they shouldn’t be running _towards Titans_ like this—but he finally manages, and shoots the flare skyward.   
  
Lance frowns. “He got handpicked for some mission outside the walls,” he says slowly. “Nobody knows what about, but it wasn’t like this. No formations. It was supposed to be a small, fast team out to do… _something._ But they never came back. People thought he died three years ago.” Lance swallows. “I enlisted originally partly ‘cause of Shiro. I’d heard the stories…he sounded like a real hero, y’know? I wanted to be that.” There’s a haunted look in his eyes for just a moment that says he doesn’t think he’s quite reached it, not yet.  
  
“So what’s he doing out here if he died?” Hunk asks.  
  
“No idea,” Lance admits, “but it’s got to be important, right? We can’t let a living legend like that die.”   
  
Hunk’s not sure about the living legend part, but he does agree on one thing: if they can stop somebody right in front of them from getting eaten, they have to at least _try._   
  
Even if it means running towards three massive titans ten meters or more high. God, are they _crazy?_   
  
They’re close enough to see the runner now. Hunk still can’t really make out major details, but he can tell this Shiro’s clothing is ragged and unkempt, and he’s not wearing a cloak or any kind of maneuver gear. He’s running for his life, but his running is staggered and exhausted looking, and Hunk’s honestly not sure how much longer he can keep it up.  
  
“Where’s the rest of the scouting team?” Pidge yells, as they get closer. “There were three!”  
  
“I don’t see anybody else!” Lance yells back. “Maybe the Titans—“  
  
“Don’t you _dare,_ ” Pidge snarls, cutting him off. Lance winces, and falls silent. Even Hunk is surprised by the violent reaction.  
  
Keith reaches Shiro first, just barely ahead of the Titans. For a moment Hunk is sure Keith will snatch up the runner and turn and bolt—the horses have a reasonable chance of outrunning the Titans. But Keith doesn’t slow down for a second. Instead he gallops past Shiro, and to Hunk’s horror, leaps up to crouch on the horse’s back instead of sitting, drawing his blades.  
  
“Keith, _wait!”_ Hunk yells, horrified. Combat against three Titans is _already_ practically a lost cause—combat against three Titans on ground that doesn’t favor them is _suicide._   
  
Keith doesn’t wait. With a yell, he leaps into the air, firing off one of his anchors. It buries deeply into the meat of one of the Titans’ forearms as the creature reaches for him, and Keith kicks the gas, spinning out wide and just barely missing being grasped in the thing’s hands.  
  
“That idiot!” Lance yelps, sounding both alarmed and furious. Hunk moans as both Lance and Pidge also shift into crouches on horseback, drawing their own blades. “He’s gonna kill himself trying to take those things down. _Damn_ it, Keith!”   
  
“Take care of Shiro!” Pidge yells over her shoulder. “We’ve got this!”  
  
“Don’t die!” Hunk hollers after them in a panic. _Don’t leave me here alone, please!_   
  
Ahead of them, Keith seems to be doing his best to take that to heart, although Hunk’s not sure Keith actually heard him at all. He does an agile midair flip and disconnects from the Titan’s arm once he’s gained enough height and momentum, and snaps out with a second cable, burying it deep in the closest twelve meter’s neck. With a roar of fury, he triggers the cable to reel him in at an incredible pace, and lashes out with both blades deep into the creature’s neck before it can do so much as react. A crescent-shaped wedge of flesh goes flying, and the Titan howls as it collapses, already steaming.   
  
Keith is in midair then, no longer anchored to anything as his original target begins to fall apart. He tumbles, already twisting to right himself and kicking the gas to slow his descent and turn the fall into something survivable. Hunk watches in awe. Keith’s incredible when it comes to the maneuver gear; his instincts are so strong he can do things with it half the instructors cant even fathom, and now is no exception.   
  
But instincts won’t save him from everything, and even as Hunk watches in horror, the ten meter Titan lashes out for Keith, fingers spread wide. Keith can all but fly with his gear, but it’s not _real_ flight. There’s nothing around to anchor to but the Titans themselves.   
  
“Look out!” Hunk screams, horrified. It’s all he can do, and it’s ultimately so _useless._ Keith hears the warning, and manages to twist in midair, blades at the ready as the hand comes towards him, but for all his skill there’s nothing he’ll be able to do—  
  
Lance comes slamming down on the back of that hand with a roar, knocking it off course and lashing out with both blades. Several of the Titan’s fingers are severed, and the creature howls as it draws its hand back like it’s been bitten. Lance is sent cartwheeling through the air, but manages to turn it to his advantage when he fires an anchor and embeds it in the injured Titan’s cheek.   
  
“Are you _trying_ to die, you idiot?” he screams, as he whizzes past Keith. “Work with the team! Pidge, I’ve got its eyes!”   
  
Lance knows what he’s doing here—team support is his specialty. He swings around the Titan’s face, and the creature tracks him, reaching for the angry little fly that had tried to bite. While Lance holds its attention, Pidge—lightning fast, stealthy Pidge—manages to dart around the outside of the creature’s legs, secure an anchor in its neck, and blast in fast for the kill. The Titan collapses hissing steam. Keith is able to land safely on the ground in a painful looking but ultimately successful roll.  
  
Hunk is impressed with his friends’ abilities. Two Titans down already, and the three of them are already converging on the last. They’re doing their job—now he needs to do his. There’s a point to all this madness, and he needs to do his part before _more_ Titans converge on the area.  
  
He slows his horse a little as he nears Shiro. The man is gasping as he staggers forward even now, eyes wide and wild. Hunk’s not entirely sure that Shiro sees him, but it’s not the first time he’s seen something like this. So many soldiers had worn the same face after the attack on Balmera, and God only knows what Shiro’s seen out here. If Lance’s story is right, he’s lived for three _years_ outside the walls. How could anyone do that?   
  
He supposes Shiro can answer that question—when they rescue him.  
  
He reaches down and secures Shiro by the collar as his horse runs past, and drags him up on the saddle in front of him. Almost immediately, Shiro starts fighting, yelling frantically as he struggles against Hunk’s grip. Hunk’s eyes widen in alarm, and he struggles to secure both Shiro and the reins. “Sir!” he yells frantically. “Easy! Sir, it’s okay! I’m human, I’m human! This is a rescue!”  
  
He’s not sure it takes at first. Shiro fights for a few seconds more, seemingly unable to register Hunk’s words. But then he quiets, and sags limply, energy spent. Hunk gratefully takes the chance to secure him a little better on the horse, and wheel the animal around to run back towards the formation. They need the security of the others, and he’s sure Lord Alfor will want to hear about this.   
  
He only makes it a few meters before he realizes his cloak feels soaked through, and his shirt is starting to feel sticky. Confused, he spares a moment to glance down at the soldier he holds secure with one arm.  
  
He _nearly_ vomits a second later, and holds back through sheer force of will and terror alone. He hadn’t noticed in the rush, everything had been such a blur, and Shiro’s clothing is so ragged, but he’s missing an _arm_. The right one, above the elbow—nearly all of it is gone, and the remainder just below the shoulder pumps blood at an alarming rate. The wound is ragged, and clearly Titan made, very, _very_ recently. Hunk is frankly stunned Shiro managed to escape at all.  
  
“Oh, geez,” Hunk moans, horrified. “I hate blood, I—sir, hang on, _please_ —“  
  
Shiro’s survived three years out here. He doesn’t deserve to die like _this_. Hunk kicks his horse to greater speeds, still feeling sick, but also determined. Almost there. If he can just get Shiro back to the main convoy, there’s medics— _someone_ can treat him, he’s sure.  
  
He feels a little bad turning his back on his friends. But he’s sure they’ll be okay. They’re the best of the best. Every one of them was in the top ten rankings, unlike him. They’d all wanted to save Shiro. It’ll be okay. They’ll be _fine._ He just has to do his job.  
  
He’s nearly back at the formation now. It’s been steadily moving forward despite his friends’ adjustments, and part of it is passing through a series of old ruined buildings that might have been part of a town a hundred years ago. Hunk can see some horses in the distance, and a few smoky flares floating on the horizon. Almost there—  
  
The two Titans burst out of the ruined buildings as Hunk passes them. They’re smaller ones, seven and four meter class, but even a small Titan is deadly out on the plains. Their huge, gaping mouths leer as they stumble forward, reaching with thick fingers. Hunk jerks on the reins in a panic, trying to swerve his horse away, but the Titans are too close. Shiro starts struggling again when the hot steam of the Titans blows over them, eyes wild, screaming, “No, they can’t—they’re _coming_ , have to warn— _no_ —“   
  
“Oh, _no_ ,” Hunk moans in horror. They’re closer now. He can’t fight two Titans solo, even unencumbered with Shiro. He shouldn’t have run ahead of the others. Oh God, all that and they’re going to die—  
  
The closest Titan’s neck bursts in a spray of blood as something green and white flits past. The attacker twists artfully in midair, and snaps out an anchor to the ruined mess of the remaining buildings, landing neatly on the remains of one roof. Seconds later, the second Titan’s neck also bursts as another green and white blur flashes past, before it, too, alights on the rooftop. The Titans collapse, steaming and already dead.   
  
Hunk stares. “Commander?” he asks shakily, after a moment.  
  
Commander Alfor— _Lord_ Alfor—stands up on the rooftops next to his daughter and Squad Leader, Allura. Their cloaks, emblazoned with the wings of freedom and the lion crest of the House of Altea, flutter around them as they settle, and they look every inch like royalty. It’s not too far off the mark, really. Lord Alfor is from Sina, a nobleman by birth and tradition. By all rights, he could _easily_ remain behind the innermost wall and live a life of luxury and safety, if he so desired, and provide the same for his daughter.   
  
But the House of Altea has always been a strange one. They’re a rare breed of nobility that never believed in sitting idly by and letting common men spill their blood while they watched and stepped over their corpses. They claim nobles cannot ask their men to take action that they themselves would not take, and refuse to order their men to take risks _for_ them. Lord Alfor lives by his word, and so does his daughter. Both of them earned their ranks not through money or power, but through experience and skill, and neither is afraid to fight alongside their men in the thick of combat. Commander Alfor and Squad Leader Allura are both incredibly skilled, with a near ludicrous number of Titan kills each to their credit, and they lead the Survey Corps with honor and with action. Both are well respected by their men, and Hunk is no exception.  
  
He’d never expected either of them to show up to save his life, though.  
  
“I’d wondered what happened to my left flank,” Commander Alfor says without preamble, swinging down from the rooftops to land on the broken cobbles of the ruined town. Farther down the street, an older soldier with the wings and lion leads a pair of horses by the reins, trotting up alongside the lord and lady to hand them over smartly.   
  
“Thank you, Coran,” Commander Alfor says absently, as he mounts his horse. Beside him, Squad Leader Allura does the same. The soldier offers a salute, and snaps his bushy, bright red mustache a moment later, looking amused. “Now then,” Alfor continues, turning to eye Hunk, “You’re one of the new recruits, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be in the relay formation. We saw only one signal, and no other signs from the left flank. What’s happening over here? Why did you break rank?”  
  
He looks up as he finishes, eyeing something behind Hunk with a frown. Hunk glances over his shoulder, and spots Keith, Lance and Pidge galloping towards him, still some distance out. They must have dealt with the final Titan, and Hunk feels momentary relief at the thought that they’d survived.  
  
He turns back to Commander Alfor to try and offer some sort of explanation—Alfor is firm, but fair, maybe he’ll understand that they’d _had_ to break the rules—when Shiro starts to struggle in his arms again. “C-comm…mand…der,” he stammers, breathing harsh. “Dan…ger…Titans…come…”  
  
Commander Alfor’s eyes widen as he recognizes who exactly Hunk has on the horse with him. A moment later, he commands, “Tell me what happened, at once.”  
  
“We…we saw someone running from Titans, and Keith recognized Shiro, Commander,” Hunk stammers, shocked at how quickly Alfor’s calmer tone changed to one of deadly seriousness. “We rescued him. The others took down some Titans. He’s hurt bad sir—his arm—“  
  
“Run,” Shiro whispers, eyes rolling. “Run…danger…comi…ing…”  
  
“Coran,” Commander Alfor barks, “Get the nearest medics out here at once, and halt the formation. We’re reversing direction at once.” Coran salutes smartly and wheels his horse about, immediately bolting for the center of the formation. Hunk is stunned. What sort of person is Shiro, that he can turn around an entire expedition just by showing up? What mission had he been on that’s so vital his survival is more critical than this whole expedition?  
  
“Allura, see if you can help stabilize him until the medics get here,” Commander Alfor adds. Squad Leader Allura nods, and is already whipping off her cloak, coming forward to wrap it around Shiro’s arm and side to try and stem the bleeding.   
  
Hunk’s not sure it’ll be enough. God, there’s so much of it, and he’s barely coherent.   
  
“You three,” Commander Alfor orders, as Pidge, Keith and Lance finally close in, “Are with me. We’re moving for the center of the formation. Keep an eye out for all Titans. We avoid if we can, but if not…” He places a hand on his own blades. “We must ensure the safety of this man until we can get him back to proper medical care.”   
  
Keith looks grim, but for once doesn’t balk at the orders. Pidge and Lance nod, both looking nervous but determined. After a moment, Pidge adds, “We didn’t see any others, Commander.”   
  
Commander Alfor frowns at that. “We’ll have to see what Shiro knows,” he murmurs, almost under his breath. “Hurry. Time is of the essence.”   
  
Allura finishes tying off her cloak around Shiro, and remounts her horse. “I’ll take the guard, father,” she says. “Nothing will get past without me seeing it.”  
  
Alfor nods in agreement. “Go. Hurry.” To the rest of them, he adds, “Come. Hunk, was it? Monitor Shiro’s condition. Tell me if he gets any worse.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Hunk says, as he spurs his horse after the Commander’s. Lord Alfor takes point, and Hunk follows, with the other three surrounding him—and his burden—protectively. Shiro’s breath is ragged and hot against Hunk’s chest, and he gasps in pain at every harsh movement, occasionally murmuring deliriously about danger and attack.  
  
Hunk bites his lip, and exchanges glances with the others. Lance looks just as confused, and shrugs when Hunk stares at him. He doesn’t know what they’ve been caught up in, either.  
  
But whatever it is, Hunk is sure, it’s _big._ And he wonders exactly what it is they’ve gotten themselves into.


	4. Call your name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic VLD Week 2.0 Day 5: Constant

Shiro wakes in a medical ward.   
  
He doesn’t know how he got there. For a moment it terrifies him. Something about it feels _wrong_. But he can’t remember anything, no matter how hard he tries.   
  
He startles, and struggles to rise. He’s not restrained in any way, but he is lying down, and getting up is difficult. He feels so _weak._ And his right arm isn’t responding when he tries to push himself up with it. It’s like it’s not there, and—  
  
 _—a flash of pain, a blast of heat and steam, the sensation of falling, screaming, hitting the dirt, struggling to rise, running—_  
  
And oh God, it’s really _not there._   
  
He cries out in a panic, struggles harder to rise. He needs to get a better view at the severed remains of his arm. It’s not there, _it’s not there_ , it’s not there and he doesn’t know where he is and he doesn’t understand what’s happening and—  
  
“Calm down, soldier,” someone orders. The voice strikes a spark of recognition, and Shiro remembers that he trusts it, somehow. There’s hands on him a moment later, but they’re gentle, gripping both shoulders and carefully pushing him back down. “Easy, now. Easy. This place is safe. You’ve been rescued.”  
  
Shiro blinks, dazed, and turns his head. His vision swims at first, but gradually the speaker comes into focus. It’s a man with dark skin and shockingly white hair for his forty years, and a full beard. He’s wearing a uniform—a jacket emblazoned with crossed blue and white wings, superimposed by a lion’s head.   
  
Shiro stares at the crest for a moment, and then at the man. His eyes widen. “Commander Alfor! I’m sorry, I—“  
  
“Easy,” Lord Alfor repeats, voice patient. “Take it easy, son. This place is safe, and you’ve nothing to apologize for.” He keeps his hands on Shiro’s shoulders until Shiro finally settles back onto the mattress, no longer fighting to sit upright. Then he sits back himself, in the chair next to the bed. Behind him, Commander Alfor’s daughter and Squad Leader, Allura, stands with her arms behind her back and watches with genuine concern.  
  
“Do you know where you are, Shiro?” Alfor asks after a moment.  
  
Shiro swallows. “No, sir,” he admits.   
  
Alfor doesn’t show any reaction to that, although behind him Allura frowns a little. “You are within Wall Rose, in the Survey Corps’ infirmary. Do you remember how you got here?” he asks next.  
  
“No, sir.”   
  
“What is the last thing you remember?”   
  
“I…” Shiro’s not really sure. He lifts his shaking left hand and presses it to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. His mind swims. There’s little flashes and bits and pieces, but nothing concrete, nothing he can put a time to or recognize. They could be dreams, or they could be reality.  
  
He reaches farther back, to the last thing he _does_ fully remember with confidence. “Corporal Holt,” he says slowly. “Matt. We were…we were a week out on the special operations mission. We’d gotten leagues from the walls. We moved at night, when the Titans were less active. During the day we camped out in old buildings, up in trees. It was going according to plan. But…”  
  
He hesitates. Opens his eyes. Glances in Alfor’s direction.  
  
“Take your time,” Commander Alfor says. His voice his patient and his eyes are understanding, but there’s also a hardness to his posture. It’s clear he needs answers, but it’s also clear he knows he won’t get them by pushing.  
  
Shiro squeezes his eyes shut again. The memories here are hazier, less focused, on the very edge of the point when he started to lose them, but…”Attacked,” he whispers softly. “By Titans, while we were moving…”  
  
“At night?” Squad Leader Allura asks, frowning.  
  
“Yes,” Shiro whispers. It’s harder to control his voice now; he can feel and hear a faint tremor in it. “Abberants of some kind, I think. They were…stronger than anything I’d ever seen. So fast. Took down the horses. Couldn’t get close enough with the gear to damage them. I think one hurt Corporal Holt. I…I don’t…”  
  
He falls silent. He can’t speak. There’s too many flashes of blood and screaming in the darkness and he can’t make any sense of it. He doesn’t know what happened but he can still _hear_ it all, he can still _see_ it, he can still—  
  
Someone takes his remaining hand. He twitches slightly, and opens his eyes. Squad Leader Allura rubs the back of his hand gently, patient and understanding. “It’s alright,” she assures him. “You’ve done well. It’s okay now. That is all in the past.”   
  
Shiro swallows. Maybe it is, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it.  
  
They’re patient as he tries to regain his composure. Allura continues to rub the back of his hand gently with her thumb, and the rhythm of it is soothing. Alfor talks him through breathing, and the Commander’s voice is compelling and grounding. It feels like far too long, still, but he’s able to calm.  
  
When he does finally regain himself, Allura finally lets go of his hand, although she remains standing next to his bed. Alfor asks carefully, “Do you remember how you got away? Or if Corporal Holt or his son managed to escape?”  
  
Shiro’s mouth feels dry when he answers. “No, sir. I don’t know…in either case.” Though, perhaps there’s something to be said for that, as well. He remembers blood; he remembers screaming. He remembers Matt and Corporal Holt calling to each other, to him. But he doesn’t remember seeing their bodies. He remembers the monsters, but he doesn’t remember seeing them feed.  
  
They might still be alive. In fact, they have to be. And that…that sets a fire alight in him. A tiny one, just an ember, a bare spark, but it’s something. Something to warm his soul on when everything is breaking around him and turning him cold and numb.  
  
Alfor sighs. “You came to us with a warning,” he says finally. “That Titans were coming. Do you remember saying that? Do you know what it means?”  
  
“No, sir,” Shiro admits. “I don’t. But…if it’s the Titans we fought outside the walls…” he shudders. “Be careful, sir. They’re deadly. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that.”   
  
Commander Alfor nods. “You’ve done an excellent job, Shiro,” he says finally.   
  
Shiro doesn’t feel like he has. He’s come back without an arm and without the rest of his team, with no memories and no way to warn humanity about _something_ deadly he knows he found out there.   
  
“Your efforts to find your way back here to do your duty are commendable,” Alfor continues. “That you have is practically a miracle. No one is ever expected to return from beyond the walls at all from a situation like this, much less after three years.”  
  
“Three… _years?_ ” Shiro asks slowly, eyes wide.  
  
Commander Alfor looks a little sad as he speaks. “Yes. I’m sorry to have to break it to you this way, son, but I’d prefer to do so now, rather than let you discover it through further mishaps. The world has already changed enough as it is…”  
  
Shiro feels horrified. Three years. Three _years_ of his life are just missing from his head, after a harrowing attack from a Titan, and he has no idea what any of it _means_. How much has he lost from going beyond the walls? It had been his _dream_ , to see the world beyond. To explore it, to go farther than any human had ever been able to, to retake it for humanity. He’d wanted it so badly. What had happened?  
  
“Tell me,” Shiro begs. “Please.”  
  
Alfor frowns. “I’m not certain you’re ready, yet—“  
  
 _“Please,”_ Shiro says. “I have to know what happened. When I wasn’t here. Please.”  
  
So Alfor explains the approximate events of the past three years, during his disappearance. Wall Maria, fallen. Arus district—his home—lost. Twenty percent of the human population, decimated. The Survey Corps with fewer recruits than ever before. Their mission, changed from exploration to securing supply routes and preparing for the eventual retaking of Wall Maria. Famine and disease and a struggle to survive in the three years since. And all of it started from a Titan attack.   
  
Shiro doesn’t remember where he’s been for the past three years, or what happened to him. But he remembers those terrifying Abberants he fought, and he can’t help but notice the close proximity of Corporal Holt’s mission and the fall of Wall Maria. And somehow, he can’t help but feel that this is _his_ fault, for not bringing warning back in time.  
  
“Don’t blame yourself,” Squad Leader Allura says. Shiro blinks. She’s frowning down at him, but there’s understanding in her eyes too. “There’s nothing you could have done. None of us had any way of knowing this could happen. Don’t shoulder the burden of all of humanity on yourself.”   
  
“If I’d gotten back—“ Shiro starts.  
  
“It would not have made any difference,” Alfor cuts him off. “Whoever did this, it’s an attack that has long been in motion. This is not on your shoulders alone, son. You have been through enough as it is.” He sighs. “Too much. I am afraid when I sent Corporal Holt on that mission I erred considerably. I have cost you quite a lot, and I have deprived humanity of three of its greatest soldiers.” He shakes his head, looking grim. “I am sorry for the losses I caused you, but I commend you for surviving and returning now, even after so much time has passed. I will secure an honorable discharge for you. I can ensure living quarters inside Wall Rose as well—nothing exceptional, but it permit as much comfort as it is possible to receive in this day and age—“  
  
“What?” Shiro gasps. “No. Sir, no, I can’t. I have to keep fighting.” Corporal Holt’s still out there. Matt’s still out there. Something deadly is still out there, and he can’t remember it but he knows he has to be ready. He _has_ to fight. He can’t leave now.  
  
Commander Alfor frowns. “You need time to adjust,” he says. “And you’ve been through enough. This isn’t pity, son—you’ve more than earned the right to retire. Your service prior to the mission was exemplary, and the strength you’ve showcased to return and warn us of an impending threat is admirable. You have earned the right to live the rest of your life in as much peace as can be gained, and that’s more than most members of the Survey Corps will achieve.”  
  
“All respect, sir,” Shiro hisses, “but I can’t accept that end.” He struggles upright, weakly batting away Squad Leader Allura’s hands with his left when she tries to push him back down. “I can’t stop now. I can’t let _this_ slow me down.” He waves the remains of his right arm, and bites his tongue to keep from gasping when the movement sends agonizing spikes of pain through him. “I can’t stop now, sir. I _won’t_ stop now. There’s something dangerous out there. I can’t remember it, but I _know_ I came back for a reason, sir. I can’t roll over and give up now.”  
  
Commander Alfor frowns. “The government won’t take kindly to funding a soldier they don’t believe can fight,” he warns. “I am sure they will withdraw their support. You could get into a lot of trouble for disregarding command and protocol, Shiro.”  
  
“I understand, sir,” Shiro says, looking him in the eye, “but I can’t back down all the same. I’ll learn to fight like this. I’ll get stronger—strong enough to protect my fellow soldiers, strong enough to not hold them back. I won’t need _protecting._ I won’t need _support_. They don’t have to worry about paying my way. But my commanding officer and a fellow soldier are still out there, sir. And there’s something deadly out there too, that’s already begun to strike against us. I can’t back down now. Even if you discharge me, sir, I’ll still find a way to fight. I have to.”  
  
He doesn’t have any other choice. He doesn’t remember much, but what he does remember won’t let him back down. Not for anything. Not even for lost memories, a lost arm, a lost home, or lost honor. He will _fight_ to the bitter end.  
  
Commander Alfor stares at him for a very long time, and Shiro stares back. He can feel Squad Leader Allura’s gaze on him as well, even if he doesn’t turn to look at her. He can’t tell if Commander Alfor is furious or not—his expression gives away nothing, nothing at all.   
  
But then, after a very long moment, he offers the faintest ghost of a smile. “You have resolve, Takashi Shirogane,” he says, and he sounds serious, but he also sounds proud. “I expect nothing less. The government may take issue, but as it happens, I am _very_ independently wealthy. I’ll keep you on the Survey Corps and fund your stay myself. If the higher ups wish to argue, they can go through me first. You’re too valuable a soldier to lose.”   
  
Shiro still feels too shaky and weak to really show his relief, but it’s audible in his voice. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”  
  
“See that you don’t,” Alfor agrees, “and the first step to that will be _recovery_. I will permit you to train for combat again, son, but _only_ after our doctors declare your injury healed.” He gestures at Shiro’s arm. “I won’t have foolish heroics. You won’t overextend yourself. It can get more than just you killed.”  
  
Shiro nods. “Yes, sir.” He understands that all too well. “Thank you, sir.”  
  
Commander Alfor is true to his word, and Shiro’s rank isn’t taken away. He’s housed in the Survey Corps medical ward until his injury is healed enough to not constantly need supervision, and then he returns to the soldiers’ barracks within the wall. All told, it takes nearly two months of treatments before the remains of his right arm are well enough for him to return to training, and for the rest of him to recover as well.   
  
But recovery is strange, to say the least. The wounds he recovers from aren’t mere injuries, and Shiro has no explanation for any of them. He’s not sure what to make of the scars all over his body he doesn’t remember getting, including the one slashed across his face. Or the fact that his hair appears to have gone partially white, even though he’s far too young for it to have changed naturally. Or of the phantom pains in his missing limb that he can _feel_ being bitten off again and again. Or of the flashes of memory he gets without warning that are terrifying, but that he can never quite make sense of.  
  
He’s a little broken. He fully admits to that. But he’s not giving up anyway. And there’s no better place for him than the Survey Corps, a collection of misfits and oddballs with more morals and ingenuity than sense, and a vicious drive to defeat the Titans and see the world beyond.  
  
He might be a little broken, but he belongs here, and he has a purpose. And that’s enough to get him out of bed every morning, nightmares, questions and pains or no.  
  
He begins retraining in earnest the day Commander Alfor finally approves it. Getting back into the feel of combat is difficult, at first. His muscles have atrophied somewhat, and his muscle memory has weakened after three years of God only knows what. Worse, what does remain is no longer reliable, because he no longer has a second arm to work with. He needs to relearn _everything_ , from basic exercises to getting into his uniform to the maneuver gear itself.   
  
And using the maneuver gear is the hardest part of all. The entire system relies on using two sets of triggers in either hand, and two blades to fight with. The left trigger controls the left cables, and the same for the right side. Losing an arm means losing a trigger, and with it a set of anchors to fly with. He’ll have to relearn how to maneuver efficiently with only one cable, and how to strike cleanly and effectively against a titan with only one blade.   
  
Still, he wasn’t the best in his graduating unit for nothing. He’d mastered the maneuver gear before, learned its tricks and abilities with a precision near unheard of. He can learn it again. He spends hours in the courtyard and on the training grounds, practicing swinging and striking over and over. He learns to compensate for his missing arm by using counterweights and learning to move differently, and by using his momentum and position to his advantage. He feels like he learns how to manipulate the gear even more strongly with the use of only one grapple. He’s forced to push himself to the absolute limits to keep up with others, and has to be absolutely sure of every choice he makes, because he has no second cable as backup if his anchor fails or he misjudges his distance. It makes his quick judgements and precision stronger than ever before, and he starts to see better than ever what the gear is capable of in skilled hands.  
  
And it helps that he isn’t alone in his endeavors, either.  
  
There are new recruits in the Survey Corps now since he was last here three years ago. Shiro was horrified to learn that a good sixty percent of the soldiers he’d graduated with and joined on missions have since died, murdered by the Titans, and the Corps as a whole is smaller than it’s ever been. But there’s fresh blood from the most recent graduation that occurred only a few months ago, and the survivors are already starting to show their skills. It’s a known fact that those who survive the first few battles have a stronger chance of surviving for years in the Survey Corps, owing to experience and willpower, and the newest crop is no exception.  
  
Four of them, it seems, were responsible for his rescue. And they continue to be a constant presence as he recovers, and eventually begins training. Shiro’s not sure if it’s coincidence or fate. Whatever the case, he finds that for all their strange quirks and their brash exuberance, they’re a good group of people. Ones he won’t mind working with in the future when he’s back in the field. Ones he’ll trust to have his back.  
  
Keith is no surprise. He’d been shocked to find that Keith had enlisted shortly after Shiro’s disappearance. “I couldn’t get outside any other way,” he’d said. “And I had to find you. The Survey Corps were the only way to do that.” Shiro’s partly afraid of what Keith might find on the outside—he doesn’t want to see him killed by Titans or anything else—but at the same time the Survey Corps seem right for Keith. It’s a good placement, one that lets him test his skills and explore new horizons, and one that lets him feel like he’s making a difference and saving even a few people. And with his incredible maneuver gear skills, there’s no doubt Keith will be able to actually make a difference. Already he’s saved even veterans against Titans when out on missions, and he has an instinct for combat that’s incredible. Shiro’s scared for him—but he’s proud of him, too.   
  
Pidge is also something of a surprise, because the first day he meets her, he swears it’s really Matt. They look so much alike, and for a moment Shiro is sure Matt had made it back as well, and wonders why Commander Alfor didn’t tell him. But he realizes soon enough that she isn’t Matt—although she is a Holt. He promises to keep her secret, but he can guess why she’s here—the same as Keith, most likely. To find someone beyond the walls, and to be strong enough to bring them back. He silently promises Corporal Holt that he’ll keep an eye out for her if he can, outside the walls, when he’s back on missions. But Shiro’s also sure she probably won’t need it—she’s blindingly fast with her maneuver gear, and clever, absorbing all the information they’ve learned about Titans and using it to the Corps’ advantage. She’s dedicated and single-minded, but also looks out for her team mates. Corporal Holt would be so proud, and Shiro’s sure to tell her as such, when he has a chance—and to apologize, for not being able to save them, for not having answers for her. She thanks him for bringing back any news at all.   
  
Lance and Hunk aren’t known to him personally—he’s never met either of them before in his life. But Shiro finds he likes the both of them fairly quickly, and also finds they hang around just as often as Keith or Pidge, sometimes with them as well. Lance is brash and full of bravado, but Shiro can see at a glance that he’s not naive, either—there’s something haunted in his eyes when he thinks no one is looking, and he plays up his arrogance whenever anyone is. He also treats Shiro with a baffling amount of hero worship for the first few weeks, something Shiro’s never quite had to deal with to _this_ extent. Lance asks about his first ever fight against the Abberant, and hangs on to every word with wide eyes, just like a little kid. It’s sort of endearing, in its own way, and Shiro permits it because he can see that something about it is very important to Lance. And despite his reverence and arrogance, he _is_ actually quite skilled for a rookie, well practiced with kill assists and a dead shot with a rifle.   
  
Hunk is a different sort altogether, and at first Shiro can’t figure out why he’d even joined the Survey Corps. He’s a nervous person, scared of Titan combat and not particularly driven by the thought of going over the wall. But through all those insecurities, Shiro learns to see someone with a heart of gold, determined to try and help others, motivated to help achieve _freedom_ for those who haven’t yet found it. Hunk is protective of his team and driven to keep them alive at all costs, usually with reason and common sense just as much as with blades. And he’s brilliant, even if he tends to downplay his own intelligence. Shiro’s already seen the modifications Hunk’s made to the maneuver gear to make it more efficient—to improve the gripping quality of the grapple anchors, or to make gas last longer, and he can already see how that’s going to save lives. Hunk’s weapon is his mind just as much as his body, but it’s also his heart—he’s always ready to improve morale with a silly joke, a kind word, a warm hug, or a bit of rations that he’s somehow able to make taste like something rich and incredible.  
  
The four of them work very well together. It’s strange to think, considering how often they bicker, whine, and complain at each other. Keith’s and Lance’s spats are near legendary in the barracks already, and all of them have been witnessed in heated arguments over some of the stupidest things. But their focus and interaction is admirable in training and in combat, and Shiro can already see how they’re going to be valuable to the Survey Corps, even as rookies.   
  
And that camaraderie extends to him too, he soon learns. It starts with Keith, who takes up sparring with Shiro every morning to help him improve his balance and combat performance in hand to hand while missing a limb. Keith is ruthless and efficient in training—he has to be, and Shiro would have it no other way—but Shiro gives back as good as he gets, and the other three soon start to show up to watch their friend.   
  
And after that, they start getting other ideas, deciding on other ways to help whenever they have a spare moment. Hunk disappears into the supply room of the barracks for almost a week, and emerges with a custom set of maneuver gear. “I added an extra set of triggers for your left hand,” he says proudly. “It might take a little work to get used to it, but this should let you control both right and left grapples with just your left hand.” Shiro is stunned by the gift, but thanks him profusely. And it does take a little work to get used to, but Shiro trains hard, and adjusts to the new machinery well. It works wonderfully, and he’s able to fly again even better than before.   
  
Lance works with him more on assist maneuvers. “It’s great you can do stuff again, but it needs to be in a team setting, right?” he points out brightly. “Your gear handles a little differently than everyone else’s. Gotta make sure we can all team up right with it.” And he’s not wrong. Shiro’s been training for individual maneuvers just to be able to adapt to the new gear and attacking without an arm, but working with others is essential for bringing down Titans. Lance proves adept at adjusting to others’ maneuvers as needed, though, and he’s good at pointing out flaws in a joint attack that might leave them exposed. He doesn’t have Keith’s instinct for combat, but he _is_ good at collaborating with people, and Shiro is able to improve his skills even further.  
  
Pidge works with him on stealth. The true goal of most missions is to avoid as many Titans as possible while reaching the objective, and Pidge is stunningly good at going unseen, even by Titans. “They can sense you to a degree,” she informs him, “but if you know your enemy, you know their abilities, and you can use it against them.” Advances in Titan knowledge have grown considerably since Shiro went on his mission three years ago, through capture and experimentation on live subjects. He wishes he’d known some of these things years ago. Maybe it would have helped. But he takes everything Pidge says to heart now, and learns to maneuver more stealthily not just as a soldier, but with his own specialized gear.  
  
Shiro works hard. It takes him months, but he devotes himself every day. He has to be ready. He has to do his part. He has to find Corporal Holt and Matt. He has to protect humanity. He _will_ succeed, or die trying.  
  
And then the day comes that Commander Alfor himself personally comes to witness Shiro’s training. Shiro runs the courses in record time, even with only one arm, even with his specialized gear. He salutes Commander Alfor proudly when finished—with special permissions to use his left, now—and awaits the verdict.  
  
Commander Alfor smiles, and nods. “Excellent work, Shiro. I think you’re ready to return to the Survey Corps in full.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Shiro says. And despite all the awful things that have happened, how broken he knows he is, and how hard he’s had to work to overcome it, he can’t help but smile all the same at where he’s managed to make his way to.  
  
“There is one other thing,” Alfor adds. He waves, and Coran, attendant and soldier both, steps forward with a small case. He opens it to display its contents, and Shiro stares wide-eyed at the small pin inside—a beautiful working of the blue and white wings of freedom, and Lord Alfor’s house crest of Altea, the black lion’s head, superimposed over it.   
  
“I am promoting you,” Commander Alfor tells him. “Corporal Takashi, you are now the acting head of the Special Operations Squad—the Knights of Lion.”  
  
Shiro can only stare at that pin for a long moment—far too long. He remembers seeing the same thing, worn proudly on Corporal Holt’s jacket. After a while he realizes his silence isn’t acceptable, and manages to rasp, “Sir, I—I can’t take this. It’s…the position is Corporal Holt’s…”  
  
“It is,” Alfor agrees, “And God willing, he’s still alive outside the walls, and the title can and will be returned to him when he comes home. But the Survey Corps has been too long without a capable Special Operations Squad, and an equally capable leader.”   
  
And Shiro knows he’s not wrong. He’d been part of the original team, as had Matt, led by Corporal Holt. There had been three others left behind, but in the three years Shiro had been missing, they had died in the line of duty. There are no others.   
  
“I understand the need,” Shiro admits, “But…I’m not sure I’m the right man for this position, sir.” Surely there are others more skilled, or with more experience. Surely there are others less broken.  
  
But Commander Alfor shakes his head. “You are the _only_ one I would choose to lead the Knights of Lion,” he says firmly. “You’re the most capable soldier here, Shiro. And even more importantly, you _inspire_. Your commitment and dedication to the Survey Corps are unquestionable—despite every hardship you have _survived_ , and improved yourself tenfold. Whether you understand it or not, you’ve made yourself a symbol. Soldiers believe they can do anything in your presence. They trust you. The world feels a little less hopeless when they follow you.”   
  
Shiro can only stare. Surely that’s not true? He’s a broken soldier, literally—he’s just doing his best to hold his own.  
  
But Alfor looks dead serious when he speaks—and he’s clever, but Shiro’s never known him to lie. It’s what sets him apart from other noblemen. “We need inspiration like that, son,” he says. “Now more than ever. We need hope for those soldiers. We need a symbol that humanity can go into the dark, and walk out again. The world is too dark as it is. It needs even the tiniest bit of light.”  
  
Shiro hears the words. And he also hears the meaning behind them. _You’re capable,_ Alfor is saying, _but this isn’t just about you. It’s about what the men need, too. It’s about duty._   
  
He’s still not sure he’s the one for the job. But Commander Alfor believes it, and he trusts Commander Alfor above all else. He swallows a moment, closes his eyes and breathes deep, and then stands tall. “I would be honored to accept the position, sir. Thank you for considering me.”  
  
“Good.” Coran takes the pin from the case and sets it on Shiro’s jacket while Alfor speaks. “You’ll be given your pick amongst the soldiers for your personal elite team. I’ll begin you on specialized missions in three weeks’ time, so you must have your selections by then, but you may take your time to choose according to your specifications until then. There are some skilled veterans that might be of some consideration—“  
  
“With all due respect, sir,” Shiro says, “I think I already have my team in mind.”   
  
He tells Alfor, and the Commander raises an eyebrow. “Four rookies, Corporal? You’re certain?”  
  
“Absolutely,” Shiro says, with a confident smile. “They’re the best of the best. There’s no others I’d want watching my back.”   
  
“I trust your judgement,” Commander Alfor says. “I approve it. You know the kinds of missions that are at stake—take the time to train them well.”  
  
“Sir.”   
  
That night, Shiro catches the four of them outside the mess hall. They’re smiling and joking with each other, but one by one they fall silent when they catch his serious expression. “Something wrong, Shiro?” Keith asks, frowning.  
  
“Not at all,” Shiro says. He looks each of them in the eye—hopeful, determined, curious, excited—and adds, “I just have something very important to ask all of you.”


	5. Vogel im Kafig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic VLD Week 2.0 Day 6: Fighting!

The mission goes terribly wrong.  
  
Keith’s been on Shiro’s squad, the Knights of Lion, for six months now. He and the others are _good_ at it, good at what they do. They’re Alfor’s elite team, used to dig into the darkness that’s just as deep inside the walls as outside of it, going further and further to protect humanity. Undercover operations, protection teams, Titan capture, scouting missions beyond the walls, they’ve done it all.   
  
They work well together. These past few months should have been terrifying, and they’ve uncovered some truly frightening information. But at the same time, they’re the happiest Keith’s ever been. For the first time since Shiro disappeared and the Arus district fell, he feels like he’s had a _family._   
  
And now he’s going to lose them.  
  
There’s too many Titans. Ten of them had swarmed out of nowhere, and from the thundering noises Keith can hear in the distance, more are coming. He’s not sure what’s attracted them. They’ve never done anything like this before.   
  
Shiro had ordered them to run. They’d been on scouting detail, a secret mission for Commander Alfor, looking for details of life beyond the wall, but it was a mission that could be abandoned. “The knowledge isn’t worth our lives, not yet,” Shiro orders, as they turn tail and flee back towards the wall.  
  
But the Titans swarm them too fast, and in the ensuing chaos, they lose the horses. They can’t outrun them, so Shiro’s next order is to head for the nearby forest. The trees there are huge—big enough for them to maybe hide in, and wait until night comes. The Titans should shut down then, growing sleepy and immobile, and that will be their chance to run.  
  
But they aren’t able to make it to the trees in time. More Titans emerge from the woods, and they’re surrounded.   
  
They try. They do their best. They’re all skilled Titan killers at this point—each of them have at least five kills to their credit, and dozens of assists. Keith and Shiro are the best at handling the Titans solo, and manage to bring down two each. Lance and Hunk are able to work together to drop a third. Pidge, quick and agile from her small size, leads the rest of the Titans on a merry chase, swinging back and forth between all of them to keep them distracted for as long as possible.  
  
But it doesn’t last forever. It can’t, no matter how good they all are. Pidge goes down first—one of the Titans finally manages to pluck one of her lines from midair, jerking her out of alignment and slamming her hard agains the trunk of a smaller tree. She collapses to the ground, unmoving, and Keith has no idea if she’s even alive or not.   
  
Shiro descends on the Titan that attacked her with a vengeance, managing to swing around to the nape of its neck and dig his single blade deep into the creature’s flesh. It’s punished for its sins, but before he can hook away, another Titan reaches out for him with an iron grip. Shiro manages to dodge, barely, but his leg is clipped in the ensuing mess. It sends him spiraling out of control to the ground, slamming into it and rolling painfully.   
  
_“Shiro!”_ Keith calls, and anchors to the offending Titan, drawing himself in fast. He manages to kill that one, and hook to another, swinging around it. It holds the Titan’s attention long enough for Lance to dive in from behind—  
  
But the Titan turns at the last moment, jerking Lance’s line out of alignment and opening its maw wide. Lance screams in horror as he’s whipped directly towards the thing’s mouth.  
  
 _“No!”_ Keith yells. He adjusts immediately, disengaging from the creature and firing his second anchor—not at the Titan, or the distant trees, but at Lance. The grapple stabs in a no doubt painful way through the boot and the meat of Lance’s right leg, but it gives Keith a hold on him nonetheless. He kicks the gas and twists for all he’s worth, using his momentum and triggering the cable’s retraction to reel Lance in. The Titan’s jaw snaps shut bare centimeters from Lance as he’s dragged out of the way.  
  
Keith no longer has an anchor, unfortunately, and that means he can’t slow their descent. They both slam painfully into the ground with a clatter of metal, rolling and sliding to a stop. Keith feels something snap in his arm as he finally slows, and winces painfully. Beside him, Lance whimpers as Keith retracts his anchor and it pulls free from Lance’s flesh.  
  
“You alright?” Keith asks, staggering to his feet.   
  
Beside him, Lance tries to do the same, but the moment he puts weight on his right foot, he collapses again. He cries out in pain before he can stop himself, and doubles forward on the ground, fingers digging into the dirt. “Can’t stand,” he manages to hiss.   
  
Keith curses mentally. He’ll be furious if he manages to save one of them from being eaten, only to consign them to death anyway because they can’t walk. “Get into the trees!” he yells. If Lance can drag himself close enough, he can maybe escape. “I’ll keep them distracted.”  
  
“Keith, _wait—_ “ Lance yells after him, but Keith is already darting forward again. His arm throbs in agony, but he forces himself to hold the trigger and blades anyway, and launches himself into the air again.   
  
Hunk is still going, although he’s struggling with the high number of Titans. Shiro is also back in the air, miraculously, although he appears to be having trouble. He must be wounded somehow, and it’s slowing his reaction time. Still, between the three of them, maybe they can buy enough time for Lance to get to safety, and one of them can grab Pidge and get to the treetops as well. If they could just break away after that, they might make it.  
  
Keith fights with a wild fury, even despite his broken arm. Every Titan he kills means his friends have more chances. He brings down two, three, four, heedless of his own safety, using more wild and unpredictable maneuvers. He knows he's burning down his gas too much, but he doesn't care, as long as he can take down more Titans. Shiro manages to take down another one as well, and Hunk assists with a second.   
  
Then it all goes sour. Shiro tries to anchor to one of the Titan’s arms, but mistimes his shot. The Titan slaps him out of midair, and Shiro goes down with a thud, rolling and sliding in the dirt. He doesn’t try to get up again when he reaches the end, and even if he could, Keith can see his leg bleeding badly even from here. He’s not running.   
  
Keith lets out a howl of fury as he charges the offending Titan, blades at the ready. They’re his last, nicked and scored with damage, but he doesn’t care. He’ll make this Titan pay for that—  
  
But a second smashes him out of the air with a grab at one of his lines, and Keith slams hard into the dirt, dazed. His arm feels like it shatters even further, and he can only move his fingers through sheer force of will. His blades _do_ shatter, finally snapping into pieces as they hit the limit of their durability. He cries out in pain despite himself, but even as he does he tries to force himself to his feet. Hurry. _Hurry._ He has to fight. He has to _keep_ fighting. The others are in trouble. He has to _do_ something.  
  
Hunk darts through the air with his maneuver gear to try and taunt one of the approaching Titans away from the helpless Shiro. Keith watches with momentary relief as he succeeds, and then in growing horror as another Titan reaches out and snatches Hunk easily out of thin air. Hunk’s not as fast or maneuverable as the others—he has no way to dodge. He screams in fear as the Titan squeezes.  
  
 _“No!”_ Keith roars, furious and terrified and desperate. He doesn’t have any more issued blades, but he reaches inside his uniform jacket to pull out his own knife, and raises the left trigger of his gear. He’s the only one left. He’s the only one left and he will be _damned_ if he lets Hunk die this way. He’ll carve the Titan up into pieces with his father’s knife if he has to. He fires his grapple at the Titan’s arm and reels himself in, raising his knife to attack.  
  
The Titan swats him aside like a fly. Spots dance in front of Keith’s vision as he’s cartwheeled backwards, and he feels a painful tug at his waist as his line snaps. He slams into a tree hard enough to crack his head open, and slides down the trunk, dragging bloody rivulets with him, to sit slumped at its bottom. He can hear pieces of metal showering down around him from his shattered gear.  
  
 _“Keith! Keith, no!”_  
  
Keith stares, dazed. Everything is so confusing, suddenly. He’s tired. Hazy. Everything hurts. There’s an especially painful throbbing in his right arm, and an awful pain in his left. When he manages to drag his gaze over to examine, he realizes his right arm is bent the wrong way, and his own knife is embedded in his left bicep. His leg is snapped the wrong way as well. And his head hurts. So bad. But he takes it all in with detached, uncaring observation. He hurts, but he can’t connect pain to what he sees.  
  
 _“No no no no!”_  
  
 _“H…hunk!”_   
  
Keith blinks again. His vision is blurred, but slowly, so slowly, a few things come into focus. The Titans everywhere—some steaming corpses, making it even harder to see. Others alive, moving. One goes after a shape on the ground that’s moving weakly. Shiro? There’s another as well. Lance, screaming someone’s name. And…and Pidge, slumped over by that tree. All hurting. In pain. Titans would hurt them.   
  
And…and Hunk. Hunk is…in a Titan’s hands. Struggling. Crying. The Titan’s hand is rising. Towards its mouth.  
  
 _No. No. No no no!_  
  
No, no, he’s….he’s going to watch them die, that’s what’s happening, but he can’t. He _can’t_ watch them die. Not again.   
  
He tries to force himself to his feet. Pain rips through every part of him, and he collapses. The Titan’s mouth starts opening. Others stomp towards his friends, towards him. Keith can feel sick horror flooding him as he watches. He wants to scream.  
  
 _No!_  
  
No, this can’t happen. This can’t _happen._ They’re his friends. They’re his _family_. They’re the only people who have been there for him in the past three years. The only ones who have really cared at all for his entire life. He can’t watch this happen again. He _won’t. He won’t. HE WON’T._  
  
Rage starts to clear his head. He feels hot fury boiling inside him, burning through his veins, setting his bones on fire. He struggles to stand again, but his body still won’t respond. His leg collapses beneath him again, but the sharp pain just invigorates him further. He can hear blood pounding in his ears; it sounds like thunder, like the sharp crack of lightning.   
  
Not again. Not them. That’s his family. _That’s his family._ It’s the only family he’s _ever fucking had_ and he will be damned if he loses them. He won’t. _He won’t._ He’ll protect them. He won’t lose them. He’ll protect them. Protect his family. Protect his family. _Protect his family. ProtecT fAmiLy. PrOtEct FaMiLy. PrOtECT. PROTECT. PROTECT—_  
  
With a wordless, primal howl, Keith lunges for the nearest Titan.  
  


* * *

  
  
Shiro’s barely hanging onto consciousness, struggling to open his eyes and drag himself to his hand and knees, when he hears the screaming.  
  
It’s not a human scream. It’s not quite Titan, either—he’s heard Titan howls when they’re attacked, but never like _this._ This is something inherently primal, Titan in its volume but full of rage and hate in a way that is inherently, unquestionably, _human._   
  
Shiro forces his eyes open, and raises his head—just in time to see a fifteen-meter class Titan leap into his vision. Its jaws are open wide, and it’s clearly the source of the noise. It barrels forward with a speed that’s unprecedented amongst Titans.  
  
Oh God. An Abberant. As if they haven’t enough terrible things to deal with.   
  
Shiro struggles to his hand and knees. His leg doesn’t quite want to take his weight, but he forces it to anyway, and reaches for his blade. His cracked ribs protest, but he ignores them. If he can take out the Abberant…maybe the others will have a chance to escape. Maybe…maybe _somebody_ will make it out of this. Maybe—  
  
But the Abberant doesn’t go for Shiro, or Lance or Pidge scattered on the ground. It goes, instead, for the Titan holding Hunk. And to Shiro’s complete and utter surprise, it lashes out with one massive, incredibly fast fist, and digs its fingers into the wrist of the arm holding Hunk, crushing with enough force to tear the hand clean off.   
  
Hunk screams in surprise as he’s unexpectedly freed, but he’s had enough training to at least know how to save himself from a free fall. He manages to wriggle from the already steaming hand and fire off a grapple into a nearby tree. It’s not quite high enough to give him lift or let him reach the branches, but it does at least let him slow himself down enough to crash into the ground at a safer speed, and roll painfully to a stop six meters from Shiro.  
  
“Did that just happen?” Hunk shrieks, eyes wide, as he drags himself to his feet. “Did that really just happen?”   
  
Shiro is too shocked to answer. He’s still frozen in half-crouch, watching the Abberant. With Hunk no longer in the enemy Titan’s grasp, the fifteen-meter twists around and slams its fist into the twelve meter’s head. The resulting blow makes a sound like a thunderclap and a wet tearing noise, and the Titan’s head goes flying across the plains behind them. The headless body sways, but without hesitating the Abberant brings its hand down in a chopping motion, and smashes its fingers into the enemy Titan’s weak point. The body collapses to the ground, already steaming as it dissolves.  
  
And the Abberant lifts its head skyward, and screams out a victorious war-cry.   
  
“Is it…is it fighting _other Titans?_ ” Hunk asks, incredulous, as he limps over to Shiro.   
  
“I…think so…” Shiro says, eyes wide. Now that the Abberant is standing still, it’s easier to make out its details. It’s a massive fifteen meter class, and humanoid in shape, but that’s about where the similarities between it and other Titans end. This one appears muscular, and its proportions seem more accurate compared to an actual human being. It doesn’t have a distended stomach or emaciated limbs. It is still built a little unusually, though, with a stockier torso and whipcord lean limbs that put Shiro in mind of a sprinter; it makes it look even taller than it really is. Its forearms are slightly longer than a human’s might be, and its fingers are sharper than usual, more like claws. Its head head has angular, humanoid features, but its teeth are sharp and pointed like a predator’s rather than a human’s. It’s got a surprisingly thick head of dark hair, and oddly pointed ears. Most frightening are its eyes—when it finally stops screaming at the sky and turns to survey its surroundings, they’re a brilliant gold, and have an almost eerie glow to them. It breathes steam, and the glow seems to get brighter in the cast off smoky trails.  
  
There’s a scream of surprise from their right, and Shiro turns and spots Lance. He’s still on the ground, trying to drag himself with a busted leg and what appears to be damaged gear, and one of the Titans has found him. Lance’s panicked call for help follows, even as he continues to try and drag himself away, fighting until the bitter end.  
  
“Damn it!” Shiro curses, and drops his hand to his left trigger. Hunk raises his own blades as well.  
  
But before they can take so much as a step, the Abberant reacts first. It lets out another unearthly scream, and charges for the Titan tracking Lance. It’s blindingly fast, and its long limbs eat up the distance in seconds. Shiro’s afraid it will strike out from behind and knock the Titan onto Lance, which will kill him as surely as being eaten. But to Shiro’s incredible surprise, the Abberant actually reaches out and drags the enemy Titan back by the wrist, turning and flinging it into two more Titans with another screaming challenge. And then, as if Shiro couldn’t be _more_ surprised, the Abberant spins around and plants itself over Lance, roaring a challenge back at the other Titans. Lance stares up at it in terror, but it doesn’t try to eat him, and it doesn’t step on him either.  
  
“It’s not just fighting the Titans,” Shiro realizes. “It’s…I think it’s _protecting_ us.” He’s blown away. This is unprecedented. He’s _never_ heard of anything like this before.  
  
“So…so what do we do?” Hunk asks. His voice is shaking.   
  
“Let it do what it wants for now,” Shiro orders, making a snap decision. “We’re outnumbered and wounded, we can’t win. He might thin the numbers down. Your gear is more functional—grab Lance, get him up in the trees. Grab Keith afterwards. I’ll get Pidge. We get in the safety of the trees, and we let him go to town, and we run when we get the chance.”  
  
“Right!” Hunk says, although he eyes the Abberant with something like pure terror as he starts to run towards it and Lance.   
  
The Abberant howls again as two of the other Titans roar back in challenge. It darts forward again, lashing out with one fist into the nearest Titan’s head with enough force to burst it, and destroy the Abberant’s hand at the same time.  
  
The move is strangely coordinated, but Shiro doesn’t have time to dwell on that. He takes advantage of the confusion to hook himself over to the low hanging tree where Pidge is without being noticed by the Titans. He tosses her over one shoulder, wincing at the pressure it puts on his cracked ribs. He just barely manages to get them up into the branches of a massive tree safely above all the Titans before his leg finally gives out.   
  
“There,” he manages to gasp, as he hooks himself to the tree trunk with one anchor for stability. There’s nowhere else he can put Pidge without the risk of her falling out of the tree with all the rumbling down below, so he wraps his only arm around her and holds her securely against his chest as he searches for Hunk, Lance and Keith.  
  
“Shiro!” Hunk hollers, waving at him from a tree not too far distant. He and Lance are sitting on a thick branch, both securely anchored to the tree with their gear. “Shiro, I got Lance, but I can’t see Keith anywhere down there!”   
  
Shiro curses. The Abberant is going crazy down there now, wildly attacking all the Titans, and any human underfoot is going to be crushed. “Come take Pidge for me,” he orders. “I’ll go down there and look.”  
  
“Shiro, you _can’t!_ ” Lance says, alarmed. “Your leg’s busted too!”  
  
“I’ll go again,” Hunk says, frantic, “But I swear I didn’t see him Shiro—the tree he hit was there, and I found that knife of his—“ He gestures with an item in his hand that Shiro recognizes as Keith’s keepsake, “—but he’s gone! Maybe he ran for it?”  
  
“He wouldn’t run,” Shiro says, anxious. Keith didn’t know when to run. He never knew when to quit—it was one of the things that frequently got him into trouble. And he _certainly_ wouldn’t leave the one memento he has of his old family behind. He’s there _somewhere._ He surveys the ground below as best as he can, searching for any sign of a human down there in the middle of a battle of Titans.  
  
But it’s so hard to see anything at all now. There’s so much steam from so many dead Titan corpses, and the Abberant is a wild blur of motion and fury beneath them. Even as Shiro watches, it lops the head off another Titan and strikes at the creature’s weak point at the nape of its neck. Then it settles back into a combat ready stance, palms steaming as its broken fingers regenerate.  
  
Wait.   
  
_Wait._   
  
A combat ready stance? This isn’t just some Titan flailing about angrily—it has at least some concept of rudimentary combat. Its fists are raised in front of it, defensive and offensive all at once, and as Shiro watches it strikes out again with a punch that’s too practiced to be accidental. What’s more, he _recognizes_ that stance, those moves. He’d seen them practiced for years, before he ever even enlisted. He’s sparred against that style almost daily.  
  
Oh God. Oh _God._ That’s not—it can’t be—  
  
“Shiro?” Hunk calls, frantic. “Shiro, do you see him?”  
  
“Take Pidge _now_ ,” Shiro calls. “That’s an order.”   
  
Hunk grapples over with his gear, and dutifully collects Pidge into his arms to keep her from falling, anchoring himself to the tree branch. She starts to mutter as she’s moved, beginning to rouse, but Shiro is sure Hunk will take care of her. Freed, Shiro drops off the branch and falls a little lower—still just out of a Titan’s grasp, hanging from one anchor on the tree trunk, but closer to the battle.  
  
He’s not sure how it’s possible. But the more he watches the Abberant fighting the Titans, the more he starts to think it might be. It’s not just the stance, or that one strike. The way the creature moves, its speed, its style—there’s a wildness to it still, but too much of it is familiar. And this creature has some similar characteristics, as well, especially in the hair and the skin tone. Most importantly, Keith’s body isn’t anywhere at all, and this thing had appeared out of nowhere…  
  
It’s possible. Shiro trusts his instincts and it’s feeling more likely by the second. But _how?_  
  
The Abberant lashes out with a final strike, and the last Titan drops to the ground. The Abberant raises one foot and smashes it into the creature’s neck over and over until it stops moving, and starts steaming. It appears to be injured at the end of its battle—one of its hands is missing and slowly regenerating in a cloud of steam, and half of its ribcage appears to be caved in from several powerful blows from the enemy Titans. But it doesn’t seem to notice its own injuries. It raises its own head skyward, breathes out its own cloud of steam, and lets out a victory cry.   
  
Shiro waits, tense. There’s no more Titans for this one to fight, now. What will happen next? If it’s really who he thinks it is…will this be the end?   
  
But the Abberant doesn’t disappear. Instead, as the steam starts to dissipate a little, it turns and surveys the area, gleaming yellow eyes searching. Its eyes light on Shiro’s, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest—to meet a Titan’s gaze is to risk death, normally, once it fixates on you. But after a moment the Abberant moves on from him, looking around at everything else in the area. Shiro tracks it as it finds Hunk, Pidge and Lance in the trees, and he feels a slight chill when it clearly realizes where they are.  
  
The chill grows into horror when it starts to stomp forward, towards the trees they’re all hiding in. For one terrifying moment Shiro is sure the Abberant will try to shake them lose, or drag them free. It’s agile and quick—it might be able to figure out how to climb, or jump.   
  
But it doesn’t do any of those things. Instead it paces around beneath their trees, circling restlessly, and growling under its breath. Every once and a while it howls to the sky, as if issuing a challenge. It looks hungry, like it’s waiting for something.  
  
Or, Shiro realizes, suddenly, it’s _guarding_ them.   
  
“Stay here,” he shouts back up to the others. “If this doesn’t work, wait until nightfall and then run back for the wall, got it?”  
  
“Shiro, _wait_ ,” Lance yelps. “What are you doing—“  
  
But Shiro ignores him. He’s not sure if this will work, and it’s a stupid as hell idea, probably, but he’s got no other options. They’re in trouble any way he looks at it. This can’t make things much worse. So he lets out his anchor line more, and drops until he’s hanging against the trunk of the tree at eye level with the Abberant.   
  
It notices the movement immediately, and stomps towards him. This close up, it’s massive—only meters from Shiro, he can see the flecks of gold and a deeper gray-violet in its eyes, and each of those long pointed teeth are nearly as long as his forearm. He knows this creature is lightning fast—this close, it can swallow him before he has a chance to even ready his blade.   
  
But it doesn’t attack. It gets frighteningly close, but then it stops, and stares. It breathes out once, and a cloud of steam and hot breath blasts Shiro in the face and ruffles his hair. It seems to blink, at least Shiro thinks, with a second set of translucent eyelids. But it doesn’t strike. It just…waits.   
  
What’s it waiting for, Shiro wonders? His heart thuds painfully in his chest, and he can feel himself shaking at this close distance. He hopes what he’s about to say is the answer.  
  
“Keith,” he tries once. Slowly. Carefully.   
  
The Abberant doesn’t respond. He hears a surprised yell from above from Hunk, and then Lance’s startled hiss of, _“Shut up, man! Let him work!”_  
  
“Keith,” Shiro calls again. Louder this time, more firm, but not in his commander tone. Instead it’s the voice of an older brother, of a friend. “Keith. I know you’re in there. I know you were protecting us. It’s okay now. Everything is all right. We’re safe. You did it.”  
  
The Abberant breathes out another blast of steam, and lets out a low rumble. Shiro swears it sounds confused, and maybe tired.   
  
“It’s okay,” he repeats, as calm and soothing as possible. “You did a great job, Keith. Everyone’s safe now. All the Titans are gone. You saved everyone. You protected everyone.”  
  
The Abberant stares. A full thirty seconds pass. Shiro’s starting to think maybe nothing he’s said has gotten through to it at all—maybe he’s gone crazy. Maybe Keith really isn’t in there at all. Maybe this is just some weird Titan that doesn’t eat people and doesn’t know what to make of him.   
  
But then it lets out a low rumble—a tired sounding cry—and abruptly drops to its knees. Shiro yelps in alarm and reels himself up a little on his anchor at the movement, but the Abberant doesn’t attack. Instead, it sways once on its knees, and collapses sideways onto the ground.   
  
It doesn’t move again. And, as Shiro watches, it slowly starts to steam, its Titan body in the first stages of decay as it begins to fade away.   
  
“Is…is that it?” Hunk calls. “Is it…is it dead? Was that not Keith?”  
  
“What did I _miss?”_ Pidge groans from above. “Ow, my _head_ …”   
  
Shiro frowns as he stares at the slowly dissolving corpse. He’d been so _sure_ …it had responded to him, in a way. And so much of it had been so familiar. It doesn’t seem possible, but he’s not sure where else Keith is, and his instincts had seemed so sure…Keith can’t have died, can he? He can’t have _…no…_  
  
But then, to his amazement, something happens to the corpse of the Abberant. It’s difficult to spot at first through all the steam, but at the back of its neck, right at its weak point, the dissolving skin begins to split. And slowly, to Shiro’s shock, a new body becomes visible. He can make out the torn jacket of the Military and the winged lion of the Knights of Lion, and a messy head of dark hair.   
  
“That’s _mullet!_ ” Lance hollers from up above, sounding stunned. “He’s _in_ it! He’s _in_ the friggin’ Titan! What the hell is going on!”  
  
Shiro has no idea, but he’s not about to sit around staring. He kicks the gas in his maneuver gear and swings down to the Abberant’s corpse. Landing is awkward, and his bad leg nearly gives out on him again, but he clenches his jaw and ignores it. Instead he sheathes his remaining blade and reaches down with his only hand to seize the back of Keith’s jacket and try to pull him loose.   
  
Keith doesn’t come free easily. What looks like tendrils of muscle or nerves of some sort appear to have attached to several parts of him, and they don’t come loose without a fight. It takes a lot of tugging before the fused bits of Titan carcass snap free from Keith’s face, leaving behind ugly-looking burn scars over most of his forehead and eyes. His arms and legs slowly slough off the Titan nerves as well, and at last Shiro is able to drag Keith completely free onto the dissolving creature’s back.  
  
“Is he okay?” Hunk calls down. He sounds anxious.  
  
Shiro presses his hand to Keith’s chest, and lets out a relieved sigh when he can feel a heartbeat pounding firm and strong beneath his palm. Keith’s unconscious, and his skin is hot to the touch, but he’s alive. Even his injuries that Shiro _swears_ he saw him take prior to the odd transformation are completely gone. “He’s alive,” he calls up to the others. There’s a weak but heartfelt series of cheers from above at that.  
  
Wearily, Shiro manages to toss Keith over one shoulder, and slowly makes his way back up the tree with his anchors, until he’s in the same tree as the others on an adjacent branch. Once there, he settles back tiredly against the trunk, and cradles Keith carefully with his one arm.   
  
Keith doesn’t wake from all the man-handling—he’s well and truly unconscious. Shiro’s not even sure what’s going to happen when he wakes. Will he remember anything? Will he know what he even did? Shiro finds he has more questions than answers.   
  
“What _happened?”_ Pidge asks in awe. She’s leaning wearily on Hunk, but her eyes are alert as she stares across the tree at Shiro. “That’s…I’ve _never_ heard of anything like that before in all my studies. He came out of a Titan’s weak spot.”  
  
“He fought like a Titan, too,” Lance adds in awe. “He…he _was_ one. He messed up all those Titans. That’s like…thirteen at least that he solo’d.” He regards Keith’s unconscious form with a mix of wariness and impressed shock.   
  
“What _is_ he?” Hunk asks, equally wide eyed. “I mean, he…he saved my life. I’d have been Titan chow. But…but what does this even _mean?_ ”  
  
“I don’t know,” Shiro admits. He doesn’t have answers for them. He wishes he did. “But I do know one thing.” He looks each of them square in the eyes, and orders bluntly, “Nobody tells anyone _anything_ about what just happened.”  
  
“At _all?_ ” Lance asks, alarmed. “We can’t keep this a secret forever! Somebody’s gonna find out. Commander Alfor’s gonna know something happened, he’s too smart to not.”  
  
“Leave Commander Alfor to me,” Shiro says. “I won’t keep it from him forever. I think he and Squad Leader Allura can be trusted with this. But I need time to think about how to approach it. If he asks you can blame me. If it comes to it, I’ll take the fall.”   
  
Shiro shakes his head, and his arm around Keith tightens a little more protectively. “But think about it. If word gets out about this power, there’ll be mass panic. Some people will want him executed. More than that, people are going to want to study him. They’ll want to know what this power is. If they can replicate it. They’ll do that any way they can. And they won’t trust him while they do it.”  
  
Lance swallows, and Hunk lets out a soft whimper. Pidge’s eyes narrow. “Torture, you mean.”  
  
“Maybe. I don’t know,” Shiro admits honestly. “What I do know is this: he saved our lives. Whatever he did, _however_ he did it, he did it to save _us_. This didn’t happen until we were all down and there was no other choice. That Titan went straight for the one holding Hunk. It shielded Lance. It guarded all of us. And it didn’t stop until I gave him the okay. Maybe he can’t control it yet, but it’s clear he doesn’t mean any harm. Others might not see it this way.   
  
“So for now, we keep it to ourselves,” Shiro finishes, looking around at them all again. “He saved all of our lives. He protected his family. And it’s time for us to return the favor.”   
  
“It’s gonna be tricky,” Lance says, sounding grim. “We’ll have to figure out how he does it, and if he can control it, or he can spill the beans when we’re back where someone can notice.” He nods. “But…fuck, it might be _Keith_ but I’d be red paste on the ground if he hadn’t Titan’d up. I’m in.”  
  
“Same,” Hunk agrees, looking scared but determined. “He saved my life. I’ll do the same.”  
  
“No argument here,” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses. “I’ve been studying all the Survey Corps’  material on Titans. Everything we know. I can see if there’s anything in the records on anything like this. And if we can get some time outside the walls again, maybe I can help him figure out what he did, too.”  
  
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Shiro nods. “If there’s any questions, any suspicions, bring it to me. I’ll deal with it.”  
  
“Yes, sir, Corporal,” they all chorus as one.  
  
They wait there in the trees for a while. All of them are exhausted, and night is only an hour away now at this point. Better to wait until then before trying to move. And towards the end of that wait, Keith starts to stir in Shiro’s arm, and blinks blearily awake. Shiro notes with surprise when he starts moving that the burns on his face have already faded.  
  
“What…what is…?” he mumbles slowly, staring up at Shiro’s face first, and slowly around at the others. “Wh…happened?”  
  
“Welcome back, lazybones,” Lance comments dryly. “Nice of you to finally join the party.”   
  
“How you feeling?” Hunk asks anxiously.  
  
“Tired. Weak. What happened?” Keith tries to sit up, but Shiro holds him down.   
  
“Careful. You don’t have gear, and we’re high up. I think you lost most of it in the transformation, however it works.”  
  
“Transformation?” Keith sits up more carefully this time, letting Shiro steady him, and glances around at them all. “What happened? We were fighting Titans and now…we lived?”  
  
“Thanks to you,” Pidge says.   
  
Keith gives them all bewildered looks, and Shiro sighs. “It’s a long story,” he admits. “And we have time to kill, so we may as well tell it now. But don’t worry, Keith. We’re in this together, and we’ll figure it out together. Just like we always have.”   
  
Keith has no idea what’s happened, but he trusts Shiro, and he trusts the rest of them. He nods, completely accepting. And Shiro can only hope that everything will turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet y'all thought I forgot the most important part of Attack on Titan :P
> 
> I can't believe this is over already! That was fun while it lasted, at least. Thanks for reading, commenting, or dropping a kudos, your thoughts are always appreciated :)


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